


An Insanity Most Divine

by adayathogwarts (JustAnotherMaybe), JustAnotherMaybe



Series: Harry Barton and Death's Greatest Secrets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Natasha Romanov is So Done, clint taught harry well, do not threaten arabella figg she will fight back, im not sorry for the chaos that is Harry, living with Clint turned Harry into a smartass, writing this story was a rollercoaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherMaybe/pseuds/adayathogwarts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherMaybe/pseuds/JustAnotherMaybe
Summary: Just how different would Harry's life be if someone had saved him from the Dursleys? What if, instead of living alone with his dog and his (un)healthy love (addiction) to coffee, Clint Barton had a kid?The world wouldn't be ready to handle them.
Series: Harry Barton and Death's Greatest Secrets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076495
Comments: 32
Kudos: 117
Collections: Harry Potter Fanfic Must Reads, Marvel Fanfic Must Reads





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok... Gonna try this one again!

Harry was used to adults not paying him much attention. The same skills that had kept him safe from the Dursleys had become one of his greatest weapons – he was an expert at staying quiet and pretending he didn’t exist. As a result, he could pass unnoticed in nearly any environment.

As a result, he’d been able to observe everything happening on deck, with relatively little interference. Sure, Gabe had offered to play Galaga with him, but, other than that, Harry had been able to hide in plain sight. Which is why, by the time the rest of the group returned, Harry had had plenty of time to think.

As Doctor Banner put his hand around the scepter, Harry realized he’d been right.

“Auntie Nat,” Harry said, pulling on her sleeve.

“Not now, Harry.”

“Yes now,” he said, fire in his eyes. For the first time, the rest of the assembled group noticed him.

“Who’s the pipsqueak,” Tony asked, genuine confusion plain on his face.

“We told you to stay put,” Fury said, leveling his stare down at the small boy.

“You missed something,” Harry said. “It’s obvious. You’ve been so worried about _what_ he might do. You forgot about the _why_.”


	2. Cabbage Soup and a Beretta M9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Nat are called out to a small town in Surrey. When the mission seems to be missing a few details, the duo can't help but wonder why they're being kept in the dark. 
> 
> The Dark would like to know what they're doing looking at the details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, here we go again! 
> 
> Shoutout to Rey and Sam the Goat King from the HP Fanfic Writers' Guild - Rey, for being the first person to see the chapter, and Sam the Goat King, because I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I am in this story without his endless sprints. I also owe JassDisaster and the Minister of Magic (unsure of their pseuds) for their help with some of the dialogue! 
> 
> TW // canon typical violence, brief usage of homophobic slurs

Clint Barton, codenamed Hawkeye, was used to getting missions he didn’t understand. Over the years at SHIELD, he’d been given countless missions — more than a few of them hadn’t made much sense to him, but that wasn’t his problem. Occasionally, Phil Coulson, his handler, asked Clint and his partner, Natasha, to do things off the record. Fury, too, made use of his assets’ skills off the books, although much more rarely — while Coulson, Clint, and Natasha were the closest things Fury had to confidants, that didn’t mean he truly trusted anyone. Unlike his boss, Phil was much more trusting with his two favourite agents.

This time, however, the details had been scarce. They knew that they were to do reconnaissance and that they were to “intervene if necessary,” but Phil hadn’t provided much more information than that. They were to investigate in Surrey and the surrounding area — what, they weren’t quite sure. They just knew to keep their eyes peeled.

“So, Nat, who are we supposed to be meeting again?”

“Arabella Figg. Coulson said that she’d be a good first contact and that he trusted her.”

“Arabella Figg? That’s a weird name.”

“Far too strange to be an alias.”

“Definitely.”

“Which begs the question,” the red-headed woman asked, “Why are we meeting her?”

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Clint said, as she turned onto Privet Drive.

As they drove by, Clint stared out the window — it was always this way. Nat drove, and Clint saw. There was a reason he was called Hawkeye, after all — he didn’t miss. He’d learned to see everything — the big picture and the details. It was part of surviving, necessary in his line of work.

He saw rows of houses, hideously painted and garishly similar to one another. The lawns were all relatively immaculate, and each driveway housed a sedan of some shade of blue. One house stood out. Next to the customary blue sedan, there was a large, pink van of some kind outside of Number 4. The differences didn’t stop there. While the drive down the street had been relatively silent, there had been the distinct sound of dogs yapping. It was the loudest outside this home, likely indicating the offending animals were inside. A third difference marred the monotony — a small boy, tending to the gardens.

From what Clint could see, the child had to be four or five. His clothes were ill-fitting, unbecoming of the neighbourhood. He was too young to be hired help – he was tiny, too. The sort of tiny that reminded Clint of nights without dinner and lunches made of dreaMs Again, the child’s emaciation failed to conform to the suburban mould from which the neighbourhood seemed to be made.

“Hey, Nat,” the blond man said. “Look at that kid… Anything seem off to you?”

She turned her head, and lips turned down, ever so minutely, betraying her displeasure. “A few things. He certainly seems oddly out of place.”

“Child trafficking ring?”

“Coulson would have given us more information if it was something like that.”

“But?”

“Keep an eye on the place..”

***

Arabella Figg was more eclectic than either agent expected. Even Natasha, usually the picture of cool composure, was tempted to snicker at the sheer number of cats seemingly housed in the woman’s home. Just from her place in the doorway, she could count at least sixteen.

“Ah, you must the ones Phillip mentioned,” the elderly woman cooed.

“Ms Figg?”

“Yes, that’s me. Come in, come in. Come get some tea,” she said, motioning for the two to follow her.

Sharing a glance, Clint and Nat followed her inside.

They weren’t particularly concerned about potential hostility from the frail old woman. Although her tartan carpet slippers may hurt, there was nothing particularly deadly about her choice of footwear. Moreover, while it was possible that she’d concealed a weapon inside of her hairnet, the odds were, admittedly, rather low. Most likely, she was simply elderly.

Her fluffy pink bathrobe was also quite unassuming.

“Phil said that we would need to check in with you to get a further grasp of the situation at hand,” Natasha said, ever the professional. “Would you be willing to share what you think we need to know?”

At that, Arabella smiled. “There have been suspicious men lurking around the neighbourhood.”

“What,” Clint asked. The mission seemed far too… pedestrian for the duo. Clearly, there was something that they were missing. It was unlike Coulson to send his best agents for something so simple.

“Do you have any information on the men,” Natasha asked, ignoring her partner.

“Yes, yes, of course. There are three of them, and they were dressed in the most comical way. I believe they’re searching for someone.”

“Do you know whom?”

“The boy, in the garden. You saw him as you were on your way here, yes?”

Clint and Natasha both nodded – while she wore a mask of professional coldness, Clint recognised the signs of confusion in his friend’s eyes. Just  _ what _ were they doing here?

“Ma’am, forgive me for asking… But why go through SHIELD?”

“Why not?”

“Uh… What,” Clint sputtered.

“Clearly I had a reason for asking for Phillip’s best,” she said, levelling a glare at the blonde. “Otherwise, I’d have called any of the other idiots I know. Now,” she said, putting her tea down, “Are you an idiot, or are you Phillip’s best?”

“Ignore him,” Natasha recommended. “What motive might these men have for targeting the child?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified. However, I would recommend you take a moment and speak with the boy. Best do it this evening, I should think.”

“You should think,” Clint asked, eyebrow raised.

“Quite.”

Personally, Arabella was thrilled with the spirit that the young man had. If everything went according to plan… He’d be good. "Now, I know you've had a long journey. I hope you're hungry!"

"Starving," Clint said, perking up at the thought of food.

"I made my speciality, just for you," the old lady said, smiling. "Cabbage soup!"

Although Arabella couldn't be certain, she thought she heard an 'Aw, Cabbage, no...' as she led them through the house. It was no matter. She knew she'd enjoy remembering the shattered look on Clint's face for years to come. 

***

“I’ll speak with Arabella,” Nat said the next morning, sitting on an overly chartreuse bed in their contact’s guest room, “And try and get a better grasp on what’s going on with these men. There’s clearly something we’re missing. In the meantime, I want you to go over and observe the house. I’m under the impression that there’s information we don’t have about that child, as well.”

“Get the feeling there’s something big that we’re missing?”

“Coulson doesn’t waste time,” she said, looking away.

“In that case, do you think she has any coffee?”

“Get to work, Clint.”

***

One cup of coffee from Arabella later, Clint walked out of her house, ready to tackle the case. He had two things on his mind – first, who the hell was this kid? Second, why would several grown men be after him? If he was being honest, that wasn’t all – but Clint much preferred letting others perceive him as just-a-very-bit-dumber-than-he-actually-was. Nat had said that Coulson didn’t waste time, but Clint knew firsthand just how much of a lie that was – the asshole had once asked him to break into a building owned by a notorious art thief, steal two vintage Captain America trading cards kept in a safe, and then  _ break back out _ , specifically from a different exit, because he “looked bored.” Sure, Coulson had explained it away, but Clint knew that the man had just wanted the card.

He’d checked the report.

There wasn’t one.

This felt very different. When Coulson or Fury wanted him to waste time, the task always benefited them – no, that made it sound worse than the reality really was. The “missions” were always challenges for Clint’s skill, a way to test him. Plus, they  _ never _ asked Nat to go with him.

If Nat hadn’t been here, this would have had the all the telltale signs of a “Clint Barton’s Bored” Mission. A  _ CBB _ **_,_ ** he liked to call them. But Nat was here. That meant that something bigger was going on. Probably?

Probably.

Whatever the reason, Clint thought, shaking his head, he better get to work. To start, he'd need to talk to the kid. That was, realistically speaking, probably the first step.

Kids were often underestimated, in Clint's opinion. He knew that Nat would have cased the neighbourhood waiting for these mystery men to show up. The target would be important, in that he was a person to protect. However, she'd assume that, due to his age, he'd be unaware of the danger he was in.

Which, if Clint was being honest, was futzing _ bullshit _ . 

Clint remembered being a kid; before his father had lifted a hand against him, he would drink himself into a stupor. Children, especially abused ones, are observant because they've got no clue how to live in this world - just like Clint learned how to survive his dad, he was willing to bet that this kid was just as in-tune with his environment. 

And Clint knew how to recognise the signs.

As he walked up to the small boy, he scoured his small frame for clues. The shirt hung off him like a dress… No, like a tent. It was not only too long, but there was far more fabric than necessary for his frame. In a neighbourhood like this, it was  _ highly _ unlikely that the people that lived here couldn't afford better… Which indicated hand-me-downs, but likely given because they chose to be, not because of fiscal necessity.

Second, the kid was small. Too small. If Arabella was to be believed, this boy, Harry, was supposed to be going on six. And yet, when Clint looked at him, the tyke looked barely older than four. He was kneeling gingerly, too, as if his entire body was uncomfortable. 

Clint knew that type of discomfort intimately. 

He'd have to be careful. 

"Hey kiddo," he called out.

Harry raised his head, more cautiously than any child his age should be accustomed to doing. "I'm not suppo'ed to talk to strangers. I've gotta do chores," he said, shaking his head.

"Why don't I talk to you while you're doing your chores?"

Harry paused at that, looking deep in thought. "I guess tha's okay," he decided. "They only said I shouldn't talk to people, but you sound kinda funny. That makes you different, so it's probably okay. But you're still a stranger."

"What if I said my name was Clint? Would I still be a stranger then?"

"No, then you'd be a Clint," he said, clearly trying to keep from being sarcastic - and failing.

Clint just laughed. "Very true. Well, I'm Clint. I'm Mrs Figg's nephew. I live in America, though," he lied. "I came to visit her, and she said I should ask if you wanted help with the weeding. What's your name?" 

"I'm the freak. Or the boy. I think I have two names."

At that, Clint's eyes widened. But, Harry ignored him. "But your aunt calls me Harry. I guess that's a nickname or som'in. I dunno," he said. 

"Have you started school?"

"Nah, they say freaks can't go to school. I was supposed to star' this year, but my aunt told the school I was too stupid, so they let her keep me here. I thin' imma start this year, though."

"Who says? Your parents?"

"Parents? No, mine are dead," the small child said. "They died in a car assident, because they were no-good drunks."

"Accident," Clint corrected automatically. "Do you really think that?"

"That they died? Yeah, because they aren't here to take care a me."

"No, that they were no good"

"Well, that's why my aunt and uncle say. I guess they're right, right? I dunno much 'bout them, really. I'm not allowed to ask."

"You're not allowed to ask?"

"Questions. I'm not allowed to ask them."

"About anything?"

"Nuh-uh," Harry said, continuing his weeding. He was far more efficient than Clint, able to crouch down and help much more comfortably. 

"Well, that's dumb."

Looking around, Harry whispered, "Me too." He went back to gardening, though he looked around several times before he continued. As if he was looking for someone. Then, his eyes locked on Clint's ears.

"Are those earrings? My uncle said that only nancy-boys and poofters wear earrings, and that they're all bad people who deserve to be beat up," Harry said. In spite of his words, Clint noted that he sounded worried for Clint, as if he wouldn't be safe.

"Those aren't nice things to call people, Harry. And your uncle's wrong. But no, these are hearing aids. I'm deaf, so I can't hear. I use these to hear what other people are saying."

"So… They're magic," Harry decided. And then, as if betraying the universe's biggest secret, Harry said, "I think my uncle is wrong about a lot of things." 

"I think so too."

"You're really nice Mr Clint, but I don't think my uncle would like you talking to me. You should probably go," the green-eyed boy finally said. 

"But you've still got so much weeding left to do!"

"I can take care of it, Mr Clint."

"Well… Can I ask one more question, before I go?"

"Sure."

"Have there been any… strange strangers around here?"

"Strange strangers?"

"Weird men."

"There were some guys who were dressed funny. Uncle Vernon was complaining about 'freaks' and 'd'lunkwents' again. They stared at me, yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. But they never do anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They never cross that line," Harry said, pointing at a place on the sidewalk, and then pointing at another to their left. "They usually come and go in the afternoon. Why? Do you know them?"

"No, but my aunt was worried they were bothering you," Clint explained.

"No, they're just weird. They stare a lot, and then they normally get frustrated and leave. I saw that they all have tattoos though. They were kinda scary looking."

"Thank you, Harry. You're really brave. And that was very useful information that you gave me. I'm really glad you decided to talk to me," Clint said, getting up. "If you're ever over at Aunt Arabella's place while I'm here, you'll have to find me."

"Ok MrClint," Harry said, giving his biggest toothy grin. "I gotta get back to work though."

Clint wandered back over to Arabella's place, deeply disturbed by the information he'd received. Not, of course, about the men - no, he was disturbed at the casual way Harry talked about his abuse. Clint knew first-hand what that was like - not understanding, thinking you'd deserved it, hoping it would get better. That they'd love you, eventually. 

That love never came. 

***

"Thoughts?"

"He's definitely abused."

"I could have told you that," Arabella said. "His uncle leaves him here when they go on trips, tells me to make sure he doesn't get treated well. He's far too fond of cakes and far from fond of Harry."

"He said his name is freak?"

"All they ever call him, probably."

"Too bad Coulson didn't call us in to deal with them," Clint lamented.

"I agree," Arabella said. "However, I'm sure you could get an investigation started, if you really wanted to."

"There's no way Coulson would agree to take the kid, though."

"Give him a ring, explain your thoughts, and let me have the phone." 

"You really think that'll work? It's  _ Coulson _ ."

"You say that like it means something," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "You're a SHIELD agent and a spy, for fuck's sake. I've no clue how you've managed such success without a spine."

"Ouch."

"And yet not wrong."

"You're mean."

"And?"

Clint just groaned. "Where's Nat?"

"Currently in the yard. She found she can watch the neighbourhood from behind my fence. Now, give Coulson a call and let the grown-ups talk."

***

"So, Arabella said that we're to take the kid if we deem him in 'need of immediate protection' and bring him with us?"

Clint nodded. "That's what he said, yeah."

"Strange."

"Why?"

Nat raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me that a small child, who, at most, is being lightly stalked, could need  _ evacuation _ ? By SHIELD?"

"Fair point."

"So, there's something we're missing."

"And Arabella knows what it is. Coulson, too. Were you able to get anything out of her?"

Nat sighed. "Unfortunately, no. I can name all of her cats, and that's it."

"Futz."

"That's the name of the fat ginger one. Wait… Do you see that?"

"See what?"

"He's talking to someone. I can't see who," she said, moving to stand up. 

Clint turned around, tall enough to see well over the fence - "It's… I think he's talking to himself."

"What?"

"No, wait. He's talking to… Shit, is that a… Snake?"

"So… Coulson sent us after a snake charmer?"

"The snake just went off somewhere… And… Holy shit, Nat," Clint said, dropping his voice to an aggressive whisper as he ducked. "They're there."

"Are they moving closer to the kid?"

"No, it's just like Harry said. They can't… For some reason, they can't cross the property line, I'm assuming."

"What the fuck?"

"Look!"

***

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Shut up and walk faster," Nat responded. They'd decided to go around the block. Or rather, Natasha had decided that they'd be going around the block. 

Clint dutifully complied, and soon they were approaching the group. 

"I told you, Rosier. We can't pass," one of them said, in hushed tones. 

"Hush, Goyle."

"Afternoon," Natasha said, pretending she hadn't heard them. She kept her voice silky. "Are you from around here," she asked, stopping in front of them.

Strange really was the best word to describe them. They all wore long, flowing garments in dark black cloth. Robes, really.

Clint couldn't help but wondering if they wannabe Gandalfs. 

There were three of them. The tallest, apparently named Rosier, had bared his forearm. Harry was right: there was a rather disturbing tattoo on the man's arm. It was as if a snake had forced its way through a skull, fangs bared. 

Speaking of the lad, he was subtly paying attention to the interaction. He was likely just as curious as the spies were.  _ Smart kid _ . Then again, he probably learned how to tell when adults were dangerous from his uncle. This probably wasn't anything new for him. 

Clint hadn't met the uncle, but he wouldn't have minded putting an arrow through the man's head. 

Just because. 

He snapped back to reality as one of the shorter men, Goyle, turned to face them. 

"Get lost, you Muggle bitch."

"Now, Gaspar, that is no way to speak to a woman," Rosier said. "However, I am afraid my companions would make for poor company. It would be best if you went on your way, miss."

"A way I'm afraid I've lost," Nat responded. "I was hoping you gentleman, at least, might be able to point me in the right direction. It seems the houses all look the same."

"Indeed," Rosier said, looking down at the redhead. 

"Oh, Nat," Clint interjected, "I think I see Auntie's house. Come on." 

He grabbed her arm, more forcefully than he intended, and dragged her all the way back to their "base," not comfortable with his back facing the men but more interested in getting away; Harry was safe within the property lines, that much had been assured. They, unfortunately, were not. 

"What the fuck, Clint," she finally asked, behind the front door.

"Call Coulson. Tell him we've gotta get more info on that ink."

"What?"

Clint said, "Just trust me, there's something wrong about those men."

She glanced through the window. "What do you mean?"

"Nat. I don't know how to explain it. There was just evil coming off of them. That tattoo... I don't know, it just felt  _ wrong _ ."

Brows almost furrowed, Nat said, "So you're saying we go off your gut. Because of a tattoo."

"Yes."

"Fine. Let's observe them a bit more, and if they do anything between now and tomorrow we'll call Coulson again, okay?"

Clint couldn't help but groan. "Alright."

***

Several days later, Harry found himself yanked from his cupboard and thrown to the ground. He couldn't help but groan. The beating yesterday had left him more sore than usual, it seemed. 

"Now listen here, freak. You're going across the street while we go on vacation, and you're not to get up to any  _ funny business _ , do you hear me?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Now, grab that bag," he said, pointing at the small, well-worn backpack that housed Harry's clothes whenever the Dursley's saw fit to be rid of him for a few days. 

Harry had thought about mentioning the fact that Mrs Figg's cousin was visiting, but, ultimately, he decided against it. For one, Mr Clint had been really nice and came and talked to him most days. Second, he normally got three whole meals when he stayed with Mrs Figg, and it had been  _ days _ since he'd last eaten. 

And so, at seven in the evening, Vernon Dursley dragged his nephew across the street to deposit him with the fuddy old neighbour who was far too fond of cats. 

He was quite surprised to find a tall blonde man at the door. "Hello?"

"Who the hell are you," Vernon barked. 

"Clint Figg, at your service. Did you need my aunt," he said, sticking to his lie. 

"She didn't mention she'd have people over," Vernon said. And, as if muttering under his breath - although obviously loud enough for Harry to hear, he added, "That crazy old bitch still better be able to take care of the freak..."

"Vernon, is that you?"

"Move, boy!"

Clint stepped aside, letting Mrs Figg see the devil standing in her doorway.

"Ah, Vernon. Looking forward to your vacation with Marjorie," she asked, ignoring the awkwardness of the situation.

"Yes. You didn't tell me you'd be having family over. You can still take the boy, though, right?"

"Of course."

"Just have him sleep on the floor."

For the first time, she looked down at Harry. He was even more emaciated than the last time she'd seen him.  _ Damn those Dursleys _ . 

"I'm sure we'll be able to arrange something. Now, you best be off. I'd hate for you to miss your flight on my account."

"Right. I'll be going," he said, before reaching down and grabbing Harry's harm - hard. "And you, no funny business, or you'll  _ regret it _ . Understood?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

And, with that, he was off. 

"Good riddance," Natasha said, emerging from the shadows in the back. 

If he was surprised, Harry certainly didn't show it. Instead, he just turned to their host. "Do you have any chores you need me to do?"

"Yes, I do," she said, as Clint's eyes widened. Before he could say anything, she continued. "There's a big bowl of soup in there - I'll need you to empty it and wash out the bowl. Feel free to use the spoon there," she said, giving the small boy a little wink. "I'll just stay here and talk to Clint and Natasha."

"Ok," the little boy said, his smile heartbreakingly wide. It left Clint wondering just how many times they'd used this little code - it was far too well practised for his liking.

As he wandered off, Arabella looked at her two guests. "You realise he had to cross the property line to get here, right?"

As she went off to one of the cat rooms - one of the rooms they'd not been allowed in, Clint and Nat shared a look. 

It was going to be a long few nights. 

***

Clint was very glad that Arabella had coffee, as he was feeling more than a bit exhausted. Stakeouts were normally no problem for him, so he couldn't help but wonder what the issue was. 

Really, stakeouts were usually far from emotional. He would get in, he would do his job, and he would get out. There'd be no ruminating, no remembering, no unfortunate recalling. His past stayed locked up, unable to bother him - Coulson had told him to go to therapy for years, but Clint couldn't imagine anything worse than having to  _ talk _ about what he'd been through. His 27 years had not been full of sunshine or happiness, but, normally, he was able to repress his past enough to enjoy his present.

Harry, however, was a painful reminder of the life he'd left behind when he joined the circus. At just shy of six, the small boy was already set into the life he'd been condemned to. 

He was drawn from his thoughts when he saw movement by the bushes. Soon after, the door opened - although he hadn't heard any lockpicking equipment at work… Strange. 

Before him stood the tall man from that morning - the one who exuded evil. Rosier, his memory supplied. But, just as Clint was about to move, he found himself unable to move - completely aware, but frozen. He'd never seen a weapon like it. 

Rosier moved to look at him, before giving him a sharp kick to the ribs. "Idiot. You'll be next," the man said. "But I think I'd much rather let you die knowing how you've failed."

With that, he moved over to Harry, as Clint watched in horror. "The Saviour… What a joke. My Lord will reward me well," he said, raising… something. Clint couldn't make out what was in the man's hand, due to the darkness. 

Before anything could happen, though, a blast of bright, red light blew out from where Harry was laying - Clint had never seen anything like it. The… whatever the futz it was blasted Rosier into the wall. 

Suddenly, Clint could move again. He immediately moved to crouch over Harry, drawing his gun. Harry woke with a start, clearly shocked by the bang. "You alright, little guy?"

"What's going on?"

"We gotta get you out of here, come on," Clint said, motioning for Harry to follow him. Nat and Arabella ran out - Arabella in a fuzzy bathrobe. Both had weapons drawn, although Arabella's looked remarkably like an umbrella in the dark. 

"What was that?"

"Nevermind that," Arabella said. "You need to get him out of here, now."

"Where?"

"And Coulson said you were his best," Arabella said, staring at the sky. "Somewhere, anywhere, just  _ not here _ ."

Rosier started to move, but Arabella promptly whacked him on the head with her umbrella, with more force than either adult thought possible. 

"Well? Go on then!"

Clint didn't need to be told twice. He told Harry to grab his suitcase, because it was time for them to get going. Arabella helped them out to the car, wishing them luck and a safe journey. 

"Have Coulson be in contact when you're safe," the old woman instructed.

"Mrs FIGG, DUCK!" Harry shouted.

His warning was right on time, because a blast of green energy flew at the car they had just gotten into - Arabella had just enough time to move, but the force of the energy dented the car door she'd been holding open. "Drive!"

Nat moved to get into gear, when, suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of hissing. 

***

Harry locked eyes with the man who was attacking them - just like the man in his nightmares. His green eyes, as verdant as the blast of energy that had been sent at them, shone with anger as he spoke.

" _ No more hurting people,"  _ he hissed. " _ Ssstop _ ,  _ now." _

To everyone's surprise, their assailant stopped dead in his tracks, eyes filled with horror. "N… n… no! It can't be," he said, quivering in fear. 

" _ You won't hurt anyone anymore, _ " Harry hissed. " _ Not like my nightmaresssss. They're jussst dreamsssss… But you don't get to hurt people in real life too." _

***

Clint watched on with morbid curiosity as the man began to writhe with pain. Harry continued hissing, as if unaware of what he was doing, and Rosier was clearly unable to bear  _ whatever _ it was Harry was doing to him. 

Had they thought to look at his tattoo, they would have seen the snake dancing on his arm. The tattoo's poison had been released by Harry's sibilant sounds, and, just like so many of the Dark Mark's victims, Evan Rosier's body turned against him, unable to handle the torture the poison was unleashing on his body. He couldn't even cry out in pain, such was his pain.

Arabella Figg, however, knew exactly what was going on. That knowledge is what led her to grab Clint's gun, shooting the assailant in the head with a finesse that only experience could impart. _Thank Merlin_ _for silencers_ , she thought to herself. It was hardly the first time she'd had a gun in her hands - Harry, on the other hand, didn't need to start a kill count at five. 

"Now, get him out of here," Arabella said, turning to the two agents who'd frozen.

"But… Wait..."

"I said,  _ now _ . I'll handle this."

Nat didn't need to be told twice.

***

"Kingsley, thank you for making time to see me," Arabella said, her cats and kneazles free from the back rooMs 

"Of course, Arabella. You made it sound quite urgent."

"See for yourself," she said, pointing at the dead man outside her doorway.

"Oh, Merlin..."

"I'm not sure if it was the Mark that killed him, or the gunshot. Either way, it seems you've found Evan Rosier. I think we can safely say he was killed evading the law, don't you?"

"Yes… Yes, of course. Is Harry ok?"

"Of course. Do me a favour, though, would you?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Don't publicise how you found the body. Let me know if Albus asks about our young friend, would you?"

***

Harry Potter had had a very, very eventful 24 hours. Since getting woken up and nearly being killed by… someone? No one was willing to explain much - he hadn't seen Mr Clint since they'd gotten to the airport, because apparently, he was  _ flying _ the plane!

The redheaded lady, who was apparently called Natasha, didn't say much, so Harry had been more-or-less left to his own devices during the plane ride. She'd occasionally ask how he was, but the interactions were short and infrequent. By the time they'd landed, Harry had decided to take a boredom nap - he thought he should probably consider the fact that he was being taken away from the Dursleys, but he couldn't bring himself to be sad about it. So, in true five-year-old fashion, he just didn't think about it anymore.

Eventually, they landed in somewhere called New York. Harry was pretty sure that the Dursleys were around as well, but when Mr Clint picked him up and put him on his shoulders, it didn't seem like they were worried about finding Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Which, to Harry, was a very good thing. 

He even got to ride in a limo! He'd heard about them, but he'd never been in one before. He idly wondered if the Dursleys had ever been in a limo. The driver, a man named Mr Phil, gave Harry a juice box and a cookie. Mr Phil was pretty alright, in Harry's opinion. He learned that he really liked apple juice. 

Eventually, they arrived at a big building. Mr Clint, Ms Nat and Mr Phil all went off into a conference room. Harry was told to play in Mr Phil's office, so he decided to doodle on some of the paper he'd been given. 

There were a lot of firsts during this trip - for one, he didn't think he'd have to worry about the Dursleys again. Two, he realised he might never see Little Whinging again. Three, he got a juice box  _ and _ drawing paper? He continued to ponder this list of new things until his brain and body shut down from exhaustion; nearly dying, fleeing his home country, experiencing several new forms of travel, and, quite possibly, killing an adversary was a lot for a five-year-old! 

Really, it was quite understandable that he was tired. Moreover, it made sense that he'd be a bit disoriented when Clint shook him on the shoulder to wake him up. "Hrugnf?"

"Wake up, little dude. Coulson wants to talk to you."

Harry shook his head, as if trying to physically force his brain into consciousness. He followed Clint into another room, looking around at the office building as if he'd never seen anything like it. 

Which, Clint thought to himself, was probably true. 

Soon enough, Harry found himself in a room with all the adults he'd met since day. Mr Phil, in his grey clothes, seemed to be the most in-charge. Harry turned to face him. 

Or, rather, he thought he did. 

"Um… Mr Potter, could you turn around and face me?"

"Who?"

"You, Harry."

"But that's not my name..."

Coulson sighed, deeply. "I'm afraid the Dursley family has treated you worse than I'd been informed, Harry. And, yes, that is your real name."

"Oh, sorry. I got you confused."

"How," Natasha broke in. 

"Well… Mr Clint must have changed his shirt since we landed, because now he's a grey blob. And you're wearing grey blobs too, so you're both in grey blobs. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. We'll see about getting you glasses then, Harry."

"But I don't have any money..."

"I'm sure we'll find a way… Perhaps we can make the Dursley's pay for them?"

"I'd like that… But they'd never spend any money on me!"

Coulson smiled. "I'm sure we can find a way to convince them. However, we're going to have to have a very serious conversation. Are you okay with that?"

"I guess..."

"Harry, would you be willing to tell us what life was like with your cousin's family?"

"I'm not supposedta talk 'bout it..."

"It's okay, Harry. I promise  _ you _ won't get in trouble." 

"Okay..."

And so, Harry shared everything he could think of - from being chased by Marge's dogs, to the cupboard under the stairs. By the time he'd finished, all three adults were barely able to hide their anger. Even Natasha, who was known for hiding behind a mask of indifference, was slipping into a visible rage. 

Harry was  _ very _ confused. He was not expecting people to  _ care _ about the story - he'd just assumed adults were like the Dursley's (bad) or Mrs Figg (seemingly apathetic cat ladies who liked hearty cabbage soups too much). Adults who were worried about him, though? That was a new one. 

"Um… Is everything okay?"

"No, Harry… We're not mad at you, though. I want you to know, Kiddo, it's not your fault that you were treated this way, okay?"

"But… They always said..."

"Adults lie, Harry," Natasha said. "They lied."

"Really?"

"Really," Coulson responded. "And, if you want, we'll see to it that they can't hurt anyone else."

"Um...," Harry said, voice small. 

Clint gave him a smile. "You're allowed to ask for things, bub. It's alright."

"Why don't we talk about this another time, though," Coulson offered. "So that you have time to think. They're currently staying at the Hyatt off Times Square, and their return tickets aren't booked until the end of the month. You don't have to make a decision tonight."

Harry nodded. 

"For the time being, I think we all agree you can't go back to them. You deserve somewhere safe."

"You said I can ask for things, right?"

"Yes, you can."

"Can I stay with Mr Clint?"

"You'd like to stay with me," Clint asked, eyes wide. "But… I'm a mess!"

"You were nice!"

"Barton, would you be willing to look after Harry?"

"Are you sure, kiddo?"

"If I get in trouble, you'll keep me safe! Just like earlier!"

Knowing he couldn't deny Harry's only wish, Clint just nodded. "Alright then, kiddo."

***

"So, this is Bed-Stuy," Clint said, gesturing around. "And that building over there is mine."

"You live there?"

"I own the place," he said, giving the young boy a smile. "Come on, let's go meet my dog. You'll love 'im."

"A dog?!"

Remembering what he'd heard about how Harry had been chased by dogs before, Clint immediately slapped his forehead. No wonder Harry sounded so scared. "I promise you, Harry, he's really nice. He's a superhero dog, so he saves people."

"Really??"

"Really. Come on, let's get you introduced to Pizza Mutt."

"Pizza Mutt?"

"Lucky's his real name, but he loves pizza, just like me. Do you like pizza?"

"What's pizza?"

"Oh, kid. You've never had pizza?!"

"I wasn't really allowed to eat dinner."

"If you want, I'll shoot them with an arrow. Not enough to kill them or anything, just enough to really hurt."

"An arrow?"

"I'm Hawkeye. Bow and arrow, that's kinda my thing."

"Can you teach me?"

"About bows and arrows, or about pizza?"

"Both."

"Sure. Stick with me, kid. I'll always have your back. But first, pizza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? 
> 
> I normally like to leave readers with a few questions to consider:  
> 1) What house do you think Harry will end up in?  
> 2) Why do you think Clint was so scared of the tattoo?   
> 3) What are you expecting life with Clint to be like? 
> 
> Next update will be Thursday (probably around this time) ~~  
> However, I'll be around bc I love responding to your comments!!   
> Happy New Year :)


	3. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimpses at Harry's life, throughout the years. 
> 
> Or, more honestly put, Harry's growth, recovery, and loyalty. 
> 
> (Note: Please read the note at the beginning of the chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Canon-Typical Violence
> 
> So. I had to update the tags because of this chapter. *please* check them, if you're the type of person who's not a fan of violence. And maybe skip the second part of when Harry's 9...
> 
> Any errors are all mine, didn't have a chance to ask someone else to look at the chapter this round! Sorry in advance!

##  **_Six Years Old_ **

Harry was amazed at how many people were on the roof - it was a hot, muggy summer day, but that didn't keep the tenants from their tradition. Mr Clint had explained that, normally, the tenants liked to celebrate their freedom to live without fear by hosting barbeques and enjoying their time with each other. And, most importantly, Harry was the guest of honour! 

Harry had never been a guest of honour before, leaving him to wonder what that would mean. The Dursleys had never had guests of honour, nor had they ever been invited anywhere as guests of honour. At least, not as far as he could recall. Either way, he didn't know if that meant he'd have to get dressed up, or if he'd have to do something special. 

Mr Clint had asked if he ever got nervous or scared, that he come talk to him. It had taken him two weeks to properly get used to that, but, now, he was comfortable(-ish) talking with his caretaker whenever he wanted more information. And, so, twenty minutes before the duo were expected on the rooftop, Harry hopped off his bed - he had his own bed now! He'd never had a bed before, so, when Mr Clint asked him if he wanted a soft or a hard mattress, he'd been so confused. 

_He had asked, "People get to_ ** _pick_** _what their mattress is like?"_

_ Harry was very new to mattresses, having only ever slept on the pile of rags and the foam that had come with an old crib that Dudley had used. He'd been utterly amazed when Clint had told him to sleep in his bed - no one had ever offered to  _ **_give something up_ ** _ for him. Clint had said that he'd take the couch until they could buy Harry a proper mattress and turn The Empty Room into a proper bedroom. _

_ "'Course they do, kiddo." _

_ "But. You just sleep on it." _

_ "Yeah, but you want to make sure you're comfortable when you sleep." _

_ "And there are different types because there are different people?" _

_ Clint smiled. "Exactly, that's a good way to put it. What was your mattress with the Dursley's like?" _

_ "I never had a mattress." _

_ "You're sure I can't shoot them?" _

_ Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure yet," he said, giggling. Clint had been making the joke all day and all the day before, and Harry couldn't help but burst into giggles every time. _

_ Clint thought that Harry deserved to laugh a bit more.  _

_ "So, do you want a soft mattress or a hard mattress?" _

_ "Soft!" _

_ "Soft it is! And pillows?" _

_ "Can those be soft too?" _

_ "'Course they can, pipsqueak!" _

_ Harry giggled again. "Uh… Mr Clint, can I get a teddy?" _

_ Clint looked at him, face serious. "Harry, all children deserve a teddy bear. But you? You deserve  _ **_tons_ ** _ of teddies," he said, grabbing Harry and tickling him. "Why don't we stop by Build-A-Bear and see what we can get for you?" _

_ "What's a Build-A-Bear?" _

_ "It's a place where you can make your own teddy! Does that sound good?" _

_ "Woah!" _

Harry smiled at the three stuffed animals sitting on his bed - the light blond doggy with his purple shirt, Hawky, was Harry's favourite, but he loved his bear dressed in all black and the Captain America bear too. He gave them a nod before wandering down the hall, giving Lucky a thorough scratching before knocking on Mr Clint's door and flicking the lights.

_ Harry had initially been very confused when Mr Clint had explained the lightswitch. Because Mr Clint was deaf and preferred to keep his hearing aids out, he had a modified "doorbell" outside of most of the rooms he frequented. Apparently, Mr Phil had walked in on Mr Clint, completely unaware and very much without pants, exactly five too many times before he'd hired a crew to fix the issue. _

_ Harry had also been very concerned that Mr Clint would die soon - after all, being death couldn't be very good for one's health. He'd been very happy to learn that his new friend was not moments from death - instead, he was unable to hear without help. Harry had been amazed when he'd learned about sign language. _

_ "I wanna learn!" _

_ "You do?" _

_ "You use it, right?" _

_ "Yeah, I do." _

_ "Then yeah!" _

Mr Clint opened the door, smiling down at his charge. He signed down, "what's up?"

Harry was glad to see he could understand. It seemed that the five new signs he learned every morning were starting to pay off. "Mr Clint, what do I need to wear?"

"A tee and jeans should be good, kiddo. Maybe shorts, because it's so hot out. And, kiddo? I told you, it's just Clint," he said, with a smile. 

***

Harry, dressed in the clothes Clint had bought him, dutifully followed him up the stairs. He wasn't sure how many people he'd be meeting, but he was excited to meet the other people in the building. Opening the door, his jaw dropped.

There were easily thirty people milling around on the roof, and Harry couldn't help but wonder just where they all came from. Then again, he thought to himself, he hadn't left the apartment much since leaving England. There were more stairs than he'd thought, so maybe there were more apartments than he thought too.

As the door opened, Harry couldn't help but be surprised - all of the people immediately started singing Happy Birthday! He even saw a cake, with  _ purple icing!  _ His favourite colour! 

Clint, seeing the look on Harry's face, leaned down. "They're singing for you, little guy. Happy late birthday," he said, smiling at the boy.

Eyes wide open, Harry asked, "Really?"

"Really. Come on, I've got some people you need'ta meet."

The first person that Clint introduced them to was a girl by the name of Kate. Or, as Clint called her, "Katie-Kate." According to Clint, she was one of the people who'd come and check on him if Clint was away on a mission. 

Apparently, Clint had forgotten to ask before telling him that.

She threatened to throw him over the side of the roof because of the nickname, so Harry thought it might be best if he didn't do that. He didn't particularly want to see if he could fly, after all. 

Then, she threatened to dump him over the side for not telling her that he had a son! The only reason she didn't, according to her, was that she "didn't want to orphan his kid or Lucky" 

"Aww! Aren't you just the cutest little guy! What's your name, kiddo?"

"I'm Harry!"

"Aw, that  _ accent _ though! Nice to meetcha, Harry. Where's Clint been hiding you?"

"What?"

Clint just shook his head. "He's not my kid, Kate."

"I was gonna ask, who's the baby momma. Well, how's it feel to be a dad?"

"We don't know if Harry's going to keep staying with me, Katie-Kat."

Harry just nodded, though, secretly, he'd cried himself to sleep thinking about how he might not get to stay with Mr Clint. After the bed, and the stuffed animals, and the clothes, and the food… Yeah, he'd be missing Mr Clint if he had to leave. He was pretty sure that  _ no one _ could be as nice as Mr Clint was. 

"Well, I think you should keep the little dude. Now, Simone's staring at you with her mouth open. Get your ass over there before she beats it for taking too long to introduce this little angel to her."

"Language, Kate! He's six!"

"It's fine. Now, go. Before she whoops your ass."

Muttering about annoying sidekicks as he left, Harry followed behind, eyes wide with awe as everyone called out birthday wishes as he walked by. 

"No one's ever told me Happy Birthday before," Harry said, muttering to himself.

"Well, Harry, get used to it. Everyone here's gonna remember you, as long as you're 'round these parts. Everyone's gonna care. Understood?"

Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, Harry just nodded. He'd believe it, with time - of that, Clint was sure. He just hoped that they'd have enough time together to make sure. 

"Clinton Francis Barton! Since when are you a father? And, more importantly,  _ why haven't I met this adorable little man before? _ "

Harry couldn't help but laugh - as scary as loud voices could be, she didn't seem all that mean.

"What's your name, little fella?"

"Harry!"

"Well, Harry. It's nice to meet you. I'm Simone," she said. "And this one here is Charlie. Say hi, Charlie."

"Hi, Hawwy."

"Hi!"

Clint said, "Hey, why don't you kids go play with Lucky for a bit while Simone and I talk."

Grabbing the ball from Clint's hands, Harry and Charlie took off. Lucky trailed behind them, tail wagging happily. 

"So, you're a dad," Simone said, giving Clint a glare. "You couldn't'a mentioned that earlier?"

"He's not mine, Simone."

"Well then whose is he? Because he's certainly somebody's."

"We rescued him from a bad family in the UK."

Hand on her hip, she said, "We?"

"Nat and I. Not sure why the job sent us out there, but I've kinda stopped asking questions," Clint said, sheepishly. 

"Well, you're taking care of him?"

"Kid asked me to. Figure he's probably not been given the things he asks for. This one was pretty easy."

Simone nodded. "So, you're gonna need help with 'im?"

"You and I both know I get called out. If it happens, do you mind keeping an eye on him?"

"I barely trust you with that dog, Clint. I'll have my eyes on both of you. Somebody's gotta make sure you eat, and now somebody's gotta make sure that kid does too."

"You're too good to me, Simone."

"Nonsense. Now, go make sure that boy gets a burger. He's too skinny."

"Can do."

***

##  **_Seven years old_ **

"So, how're your students this year?"

Miss Janet Munin could only sigh. "I swear, I've got no clue why I keep teaching second grade. I'm thinking of going back to school! Maybe I'll learn how to do something that actually pays. Like being a fucking garbage lady."

"That bad?"

"Jen, you've got no idea. I've got thirty kids this year, half of 'em can't read, a third have unstable home lives, and then there's this one kid… I swear, he never talks!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, his name's Harry. He's obviously pretty smart, but no matter what I do, the kid stays quiet! It's a stuggle to get him to say 'here' when it's time for rollcall, for fuck's sake. I forget he's there half the time, it feels like."

"Do you know what he likes?"

"Hard to figure out. He's mentioned his dog, but only in passing. He does seem to get along with another boy, Miles, in the class well enough, but they're both pretty quiet."

"What's the home life like," her fellow teacher asked, before sipping her cocktail. 

"Not sure, honestly. I've met the dad a handful of times, someone who could be an older sister, a redhead who could be the mom, and then a few of the dad's friends. I think. I never know who's going to come and pick the kid up. And then a lady came and yelled at him "

"Are you worried?"

"I don't think so. I just wish we could get him to talk more. It's absolute chaos in that classroom. I need as many kids on my side as possible if I'm gonna survive this year."

Jen thought for a moment. "Oh, you're talking about that Potter kid, right? Yeah, he's like a ghost. Had him last year, think he said maybe ten words the whole year. He's a good kid, but aside from outrunning everyone in P.E., he won't do much."

"It's just such an awful group of kids. Half the kids have parents in the mafia! You know, the one that owned that one building?" 

"You know, you could always go get pregnant."

Janet sprayed her drink over the bartender. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry," she said, before turning to her friend. "What the fuck, Jen!"

"Yeah, Jan. That's the entire point. Fuck," her colleague said. "Hey, Barkeep. You single?"

***

Harry couldn't help but frown when Miss Minun announced she'd be leaving in a week. Then again, he thought it was probably a good idea for pregnant women to be away from the chaos of his classroom. 

Thirty kids, all of them from the neighbouring buildings, crammed in one room, was a recipe for disaster. Having spent the last three months with the various factions forming among his second-grade class, Harry was pretty sure that school wasn't actually all that great.

He hadn't minded first-grade much, but he'd found it a bit boring. Charlie had been in his class, though; that'd been great. The only problem was, Charlie hadn't been able read very well, and Simone didn't have the money to get him a tutor. 

Harry, not wanting his friend to feel embarassed, had taken it upon himself to learn the material ahead of time. Someone had to help his friend, and if the system wasn't going to do it, then Harry James Potter might as well. They'd spent hours together, going over everything from math to spelling, making sure that Charlie was able to thrive throughout the year. 

This year, though, Charlie had been put in class 2B. Harry, much to his consternation, had found himself in class 2E. By the time they'd learned the boys would be separated, it was too late. 

This year sucked. Of the kids in the class, Harry didn't mind Daniil Krylenko too much, but the rest of the pupils were obnoxious. By his count, right around two-thirds of the kids were somehow related to the Tracksuit Mafia. So, Harry made sure to stay quiet when the various kids talked about how much they hated Hawkeye. No one had put two and two together; the kids had spent years hearing about how Hawkeye was the worst man on Earth, but none of them had actually seen him. If the wives who picked up their spawn recognised the man, then they certainly didn't say anything, either. 

So, Hawkeye's pseudo-son suffered on, practicing what he called the art of visible invisibility. He did his homework, but didn't raise his hand, nor did he do anything else that might result in attention. And, it was working, too! Just the day before, a classmate he'd sat three seats over from for the entirety of the semester asked if he was in their class. 

_ "Bro, who are you?" _

_ "Harry." _

_ "Bro, you in this class, bro?" _

_ "No." _

_ "Bro, that's not your seat, bro. That seat belongs to 'nother boy." _

_ "Oh, sorry." _

_ "Bro, what are you doing here bro?" _

_ "Yeah bro, what are you doing," another boy jumped in. _

_ "Sitting."  _

_ "Oh… Okay, bro," the first boy said, shaking his head in confusion. He turned his head back to his friend. "What was I doing… Oh, right. How much is two plus two again? That's six, right bro?" _

_ Harry just shook his head.  _

***

"You're sure I'm not gonna get in trouble for this?"

Kate laughed. "Har, there's no way  _ you're _ gonna get in trouble for this. Me, on the other hand? He'll probably try and shoot me or something."

"He wouldn't! He thinks you're like his little sister. Just like Nat."

"What?"

"He almost told me to call you aunt," Harry said, with a smirk. 

"He did  _ NOT _ !"

"He did," Harry confirmed. "So, aunty, what do I have to do?"

"I'll kill you both."

"No, you won't. Now, show me what I'm doing," Harry said, smiling up at his older friend. 

"Fine, you evil little brat."

***

"Hey, Katie-Kate, have you seen Harry," Clint called out, coming up the stairs. 

He whistled in appreciation as an arrow hit the bullseye and walked through the doorway. "Kate, what the fuck?!"

"Language," Harry and Kate both chorused back. 

"Like hell! Kate! Why does Harry have a bow in his hands?!"

"Because he's learning how to shoot, why else?"

Clint's jaw dropped. "Kate, you can't just… He doesn't even have protective gear on! Kate! Why doesn't he have a bracer on? Or a vest? Or a helmet?!"

Harry just looked up. "Why do I need a helmet? It's archery, not rock climbing."

"Have you been taking him rock climbing?! Kate! Kate! Bad Kate!"

Kate just shook her head. "Don't say it. Not a word."

"Told you so," Harry said. 

"I said don't say it."

"I learned to ignore instructions from you."

Clint took the bows from both of their hands, still fuming. "What the hell, Kate? I told you, I don't want him messing around with this stuff. It's dangerous."

"I think you'd be happily surprised with how good he is, Clint."

"What do you mean?"

"Wasn't me who got their first bullseye."

Harry watched as Clint processed that information, only to find himself wrapped up in a bearhug. "I'm so proud of you, little guy!"

Although he didn't say anything, Harry was bursting with joy. All afternoon, he'd been sad that Clint wouldn't be there to see his first bullseye. 

***

##  **_Eight Years Old_ **

"So, Harry seems to have made some friends."

Clint looked over at the woman, giving her a nod. "Looks like it. Sorry, I don't think I got your name. You are?"

"Ororo. And this is Scott."

"Clint. Nice to meet you both."

"Mr. Potter seems to be doing well in class," Scott said, giving Clint an approving smile. 

"Yeah. Kid's a little genius. It's kind of terrifying. I stopped being able to help answer questions ages ago; he's started writing down all the things he wants to know for when he sees my boss," Clint said, before adding, "Nice shades."

"Sorry," Scott said. "I know it's best practice to take your sunglasses off if you're inside but, uh… Well, I'd like to leave them on, please."

Clint and Ororo chuckled. "So, Bobby and Johnie are yours?"

"Sort of, they've been students at the Institute since they were a bit younger. I normally take care of St. John, and Scott and Jean take care of Bobby."

"Jean?"

"My wife," Scott clarified. 

"So, Harry doesn't look much like you," Ororo started. "We've all been a bit curious about how our favourite snake-charmer came into your custody."

"Harry's been with me since just before he turned six. We rescued him from a bad situation in England, and he's been with me ever since."

"I take it he didn't much like his last school," Ororo said. "It was very nice of Coulson to arrange for him to take his lessons here."

"Yeah, he's got Phil wrapped around his little finger. It's a good thing he's here, too. It might be out of the way, but he's happy here. He's such a little braniac, and you all are so much more equipped to help him than the school in our neighbourhood was. I miss 'im during the weeks, though."

"Yes, I imagine it's hard to send your child off like that. It's admirable that you're willing to sacrifice your time with him like that. I'll have to ask Charles if we can get you a permanent visitor's pass, or something," she said, thoughtfully. 

"I'll ask as well," Scott added. "So, how long has little Harry liked snakes?"

"As far as I know, forever. He used to talk to the snakes in his aunt's garden, I think. And I watched him talk to a snake on a tattoo once. That was weird," Clint said, shaking his head. "Saved my life though, so I'm not going to complain."

"Saved your life?"

"Yeah. The night we left the UK with him, some guy attacked the place we were staying. I'd been sent there to do recon because of some strange guys hanging around Harry's old house. When the dude attacked, Harry yelled at his tattoo in snake-speak, I guess. Whatever he did was effective as hell, the guy attacking us was clearly in pain."

Ororo nodded. "Well, that's certainly strange. He most definitely hasn't takne to torturing any of our students via their tattoos. Not that they have any, though."

"Have you all noticed anything else odd about Harry?"

Scott shook his head. "Thinking he might have any extra powers?"

"I mean, you all would know better than I would. You're the experts on mutantkind, after all."

"True. Honestly, I haven't noticed anything."

"He's got a profound aptitude at foreign languages," a deep voice said from behind them. 

"Hank McCoy. He teaches the boys' science and math classes," Ororo said. 

"He's also a giant blue furball, but that's beside the point," Scott added. 

"Ignore Scott. He was dropped on his head as a child."

"Hey, same," Clint said, giving Scott a high-five. 

"So, you said he's good at languages?"

"He asked me if I'd teach him Arabic and Swahili," Ororo explained. "And I know Piotr and Kurt have started teaching him Russian and German."

"Woah… We use ASL at home, and I know he speaks Spanish with the family across the hall. That's what, six now?"

"Yep."

"Off topic," Scott said, "But who here thinks that Harry is going to get married to Bobby or Johnny? They're so adorable together, just look!"

Ororo grinned, "Trying to marry your son off already, Cyclops?"

"Just look at them!"

***

"Hey, squirt. Clint's out of town still, so he asked if I'd come pick you up. Want ice cream?"

Ever since Harry had started going to the Xavier Insitute, Clint had done his best to have the weekends free. He cherished the time with his little guy, so Coulson had done his best to make sure that his missions lined up with when Harry was at the school.

"Ok, Aunty Nat. Yeah, that sounds good. Hey, do you know when da… Clint's getting back?"

"He should be back tomorrow evening, so you'll have all of Sunday together." 

"You mean all of Sunday watching  _ Dog Cops _ , because he's too beat-up to move?"

Nat laughed. "Something like that. And, don't think I didn't catch that slip-up, young man."

"Fine, I've been calling Clint dad at school. I know he's not  _ actually _ my dad, but a kid can dream, right? Please don't say anything to him, I don't wanna be a burden or anything. Plus, until the Dursleys disappear, it's not like he can legally adopt me."

"What?"

"Did Uncle Phil not mention it," Harry asked, turning to face his caretaker's friend. "Apparently he looked into the option, and we can't do anything until something happens to the Dursley family, because they're still  _ technically _ my legal guardians or something."

"So, if the Dursleys weren't a problem, you'd want to be adopted?"

"Of course. Hawkeye's the best."

"In a perfect world, what do you think you'd want to see happen to the Dursleys?"

Harry gave her a glare. "No murder, Aunty."

"Of course not," Nat said.  _ Assassinations are a different thing entirely, anyway.  _

"Well, in that case, Vernon in prison, Petunia with jailtime and public community service, and Dudley adopted by a nice family. Marge… I dunno. Gone, so jail, I guess."

"Oh?"

"I mean, Uncle Vernon is going to hurt people, no matter what he does. Like, he took all his anger out on me, right? Well, doesn't that mean that he's still going to be angry, even if I'm not there?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Which means Dudley and Aunt Petunia probably aren't safe, either. I don't want Aunt Petunia to not get punished, because she hit me with a fucking _ frying pan _ that was still hot. But, I don't think she should die in in jail. It should just suck."

Nat's eyebrows shot up. "And nothing for your cousin?" 

"Dudley grew up thinking that being was a bully was okay. Who knows if he's the same, now. I mean, he's probably Vernon's new punching bag. But, he was a victim, just like me. I got saved, yeah. Him being a dick to me doesn't mean he deserves  _ that _ , though. It's like with the kids at my old school. Sure, their dads are all mobsters, but  _ they _ don't know any better."

"But if they grow up and hurt people, does that not make them bad?"

Harry shrugged. "So? Punish them when they do the crime. They've got plenty of time to learn and change now, and I want them to have that opportunity. Just like Dudley deserves the opportunity to be someone new. Punish him if he doesn't change, but he deserves the chance."

"Very mature, Harry."

"I really only started being a kid when you and Clint rescued me. I had to grow up fast to survive the Dursleys. I finally get to slow down a bit, but that's new. I'm still the kid who grew up trapped in the cupboard, Aunty Nat. I just know what the world outside of the cupboard is like, too."

##  **_Nine Years Old_ **

On the 31st of July, Harry and Clint walked up the stairs, as had become tradition. Every year, the tenants tried to surprise the little boy. And, every year, Harry pretended to be surprised. It was, admittedly, a bit difficult to pretend that an annual tradition was still a surprise. After all, Harry was far from stupid.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

Harry burst into fake shock, followed by a wide grin. In the corner, by the garden, he saw some of his friends from the Institute. Bobby, Johnny, and two new girls that Harry and the boys had gotten close to over the past few months. They, of course, were the first people that Harry ran towards. 

"Bobby! Johnny! Kitty! Jubi!"

"You're the only one who's ever going to call me that, Potter," Jubilee said, rolling her eyes. However, she couldn't keep the grin off of her face as she spoke. 

"Happy birthday, Harry," Bobby said, running up and giving him a big hug. 

Bobby passed him off to Johnny, who did the same. Finally, Kitty and Jubilee both gave the birthday boy a bear-hug.

"Happy birthday, Harry," a deep voice said from behind.

"Mr. McCoy! Oh! And Ms. Jean! And Mr. Summers! Thank you all for coming," Harry said.

"Our pleasure, kiddo. Why don't you go say hey to everyone else, and then we can all grab some cake together."

"And then! You can  _ grbdleschmbrdle _ ," Johnny started, before The Beast put his hand over Johnny's mouth. 

"St. John, that's supposed to be a surprise," Hank McCoy said sternly. His serious-teacher-face disappeared a second later. "Gah, did you just lick my hand? Gross, kid."

"Go talk to everyone else, Harry," Jean said. "We're not going anywhere," she said with a wink.

"Besides, I wanna know what cool things you got for your birthday," Bobby shouted.

"Inside voice, kiddo."

"But we're outside," Kitty said, tilting her head to one side. 

Harry walked away laughing, as was a common result of his conversations with his teachers. As far as he was concerned, they were all just big kids. Though he didn't plan on telling anyone else he knew their secret, of course. Clint was just a big kid, too.

"Hey Katie-Kate!"

"I told you not to call me that."

"You also told me not to get more bullseyes than you last week," Harry said, sticking his tongue out.

Kate groaned. "Come here, brat," she said, before giving him a big hug. 

"Thanks, Kate."

"I think I see Clint, Gabe, and Grill all talking by the burgers. Let's go talk to them."

***

"Ready to see what you got," Clint asked, several slices of pizza, two burgers, and half a cake later. 

"Yeah!"

"Kate, do you mind handing us the gifts?"

"Sure thing, boss."

And so, Harry Potter, the boy who'd lived under the cupboard at Number Four, Privet Drive, found himself handed gift after gift. Grill had gotten him a George Foreman, so that he could "take over the most important job of the summer." Aimee and her "roommate" had gotten him a set of paints. Tito had gotten him several  _ Dog Cops _ DVDs, and Deke thought he needed a new bike. Simone and her kids had gotten him some  _ Dog Cops _ action figures, and the kids and teachers from the Institute had gotten him several X-Men shirts. Gabe, one of the SHIELD agents that helped look after Harry while Clint was on missions, had given him an Xbox 360 and a copy of Galaga. 

Kate's gift of a new bow was outshined by two envelopes, though. The first, signed by Aunty Nat and Uncle Phil, was  _ very _ thick. When Harry opened the first, he didn't quite understand what he was looking at. After a minute, though, it clicked. 

It contained copies of SHIELD reports.

Confirmation that Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley, née Evans, would never again be able to hurt him. Vernon had been shipped off to a SHIELD prison in Siberia. 

There was a footnote indicating that he'd passed away "in transit" due to "unknown circumstances." When Harry read that line, he looked up, meeting Natasha's gaze. She gave him a look, and he nodded. 

The second showed that Aunt Petunia was sentenced to seven years in the county jail, followed by 1000 hours of community service and parenting classes. 

As for Dudley, Harry found a photo of his cousin with a pretty group of people. Attached was a notice, indicating that Dudley Dursley had been placed with a French family, as arranged by Phil Coulson. Apparently, Dudley Dursley was no more. In his stead was Dudley Delacour. He was expected to attend weekly counselling sessions, and at some point, Dudley would be required to formally apologise to his cousin.

"Thank you," he said, going over to the two.

"You've got one more, Har," Clint called out. "Here you go!"

Clint handed him another envelope. The first sheet was a letter.

_ Dear Harry, _

_ Kiddo, having you around has been the best thing to happen to me. I know it's not official, though. And, I know you've been worried as futz that you wouldn't ever get to be my kid.  _

_ Nat and Phil found out, and they "took care of it." So, what do you say? You don't have to take my last name or anything, but I want you to know I think of you as my son.  _

_ Love, _

_ Clint _

Pulling out the second packet, Harry saw they were adoption papers. He couldn't help but laugh a bit. Clint would never be lauded as a poet, that was for certain. 

"I love it," he said, giving Clint a tight hug. As he pulled away, he said, "There's just one problem."

Clint's face fell, and the man asked, "What is it?"

"If you're adopting me, I'm changing my last name. It's Harry James Potter  _ Barton _ from here on out, understood?"

"Futz yes," Clint said, tears in his eyes. "Harry James Potter Barton. Futz, kid, I love you."

"Love you too, dad."

Harry had never been hugged as tightly as he was in that moment. He was a bit worried that he'd break a rib. He couldn't bring himself to care, though. 

He had a dad. 

***

"Come on, I can't wait to show you guys  _ Dog Cops _ !"

"Yeah," Bobby shouted. 

John asked, "Can Lucky sit with me? He's warm and it's so cold out."

"If he wants to, then sure! We just have to make sure we get pizza."

Turning the corner, Harry stopped. Bobby and John both walked into him, confused. "What's wrong, Har?"

" _ Shhhh, _ " Harry said, motioning for the two boys to hide. 

"Harry," John asked, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I'm scared. What's going on?"

"You remember when I told you about the Tracksuit Vampires around here? The ones that used to own the building? Meet Dracula himself."

"I thought you said they weren't a problem anymore," Bobby said.

"That's just it. They weren't!"

"So what do we do?"

"Us," John asked.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "We're gonna go be X-Men one day, right? We can save the day!"

"Harry's not gonna be an X-Man, though."

"Shh, guys. That's my dad!"

Clint Barton stepped out of the building, bow drawn. "We talked about this, Andrei. You leave this building alone."

"No deal anymore,  _ bro _ . We keel you, we take building, make big boom, bro."

"There are good people in there. I can't let you do that."

"People go boom, too. Is simple, bro."

"Not on my watch," Clint said. To his left, he saw the first goon start to move.

_ Thwunk. _

_ Thwunk. _

_ Thwunk. _

Six men down, just as many arrows fired. However, for every arrow Clint fired, another carful of goons appeared. It seemed that this was their final siege. 

As Clint continued to volley out into the crowd, Harry watched, terrified, as the man who'd raised him came to the worst realisation. It didn't matter how many arrows Clint had - he'd be going down. He and his building wouldn't survive the onslaught.  _ At least Harry's not here _ , he thought.  _ Harry's safe _ .

Harry watched as gunshots fired out from the rooftop. Kate and Gabe, one of Clint's coworkers, had both drawn weapons. No matter how hard they tried, though, it was futile. The Tracksuits were close to three hundred strong, compared to the three defenders. 

"Harry, we've gotta get out of here," John said. "We can call the X-Men, maybe they can save us!"

"They won't be here in time," Bobby said. "We've gotta do something!"

"Stop," Harry said, face wet with tears. "I'm not leaving my dad."

Bobby Drake and St. John Allerdyce shared a look, and then they wrapped their friend in a hug and averted his eyes. Lucky whimpered as the first bat landed a blow, followed by the first bullet tearing through his skin. 

"NO! CLINT," Kate cried out. 

The blows and shots continued as the tracksuits moved to set up the explosives they'd brought with them. 

Before the first explosive could be set, however, Harry broke free from his friends' grasp. "NO," he screamed, turning the corner and facing the carnage. "STOP!"

The bedlam went silent, as if commanded by a higher power to be still. He raced towards his dad, ignoring the attackers and shoving them aside as if they were nothing. Falling to his knees like his tears fell to the ground, Harry whispered, "Dad..."

"Harry," Clint said, struggling to reach up to his son. "You made every day worth it, kiddo."

"No, you're not going! I'm finally yours, you're not going to leave me, Dad. Do you hear me?  _ You will not die! You're going to be fine!" _

"I'll see you in the next life, kiddo. Bring some pizza, will you? Just take your time," Clint said, before stilling in Harry's arms. 

Bobby and John raced towards their friend, ignoring the danger that stood amassed before them. "I don't have a lighter," John kept muttering, unable to tear his eyes from Clint's bloodied body. 

Bobby, unable to control himself, started to wrap the area in the tender caress of snowfall. 

Once again, the two boys enveloped Harry in their arms. "It'll be okay, Harry. I promise," Bobby said. 

"You'll always have us, Harry. It'll be okay," John added. 

"I've got you," Kate said, running up from behind.

"No, it  _ won't _ be okay," Harry said, turning to face the ones who'd taken the one person he'd held dearest. "Not for me,  _ and not for them." _

Leaving the safety of his friends' arms, Harry moved to face the murders. 

"You won't get away with this," he said. 

As if waking from a stupor, Andrei said, "What you going do, little bro? Daddy dead."

"I know your kid," Harry said. "Sergei. He's a little shit."

"You," Andrei started, face red and fists trembling. 

"I'm going to say this once, and that's it. You're going to leave and never come back."

"And if we ignore little man?"

"Easy," Harry said. Turning to face his friends for a moment, he said, "You guys might want to look away for a sec."

The gang of thugs watched in horror as Harry's eyes changed colour, going from their emerald green to a black darker than the night's greatest terrors. A few of the assailants turned their heads, only to be blinded by the blitz of Harry's anger.

Black lightning, as dark as Death himself, hurled itself towards the ground, aiming for the now-evacuated cars that the Tracksuit Vampires had left behind. The cars instantly caught fire, going up in a simultaneous whirlwind of flames. Ferocious shapes moved about in the blaze, as if animals, thirsty for blood, prowled the inferno. 

"I'm going to say this once.  _ Run _ ."

No one waited for a second command. No one, except for Andrei. "You little brat," he screeched, lifting his machine gun. 

Before he could do anything else, the iconic  _ BANG _ of a pistol rang out in the square. "You don't get to take any more life today," Natasha said, standing on the same corner where Harry had been as this nightmare unfolded. 

Andrei fell backwards, but Harry couldn't be bothered to care. As if released from a trance, Harry crumpled in on himself as the world faded to black.

***

"There's something more at play here, isn't there," Nat asked. Her eyes bore into Coulson's very soul, as if she'd be able to gleam the truth just by staring at him. 

"You said Agent Barton has made a full recovery," Phil said, ignoring his agent's question. 

"You're not answering my question."

"No, I'm not. You said Clint has fully recovered?"

"Yes. He went from  _ past _ the brink of death to completely fine in a matter of hours."

"And Charles had no clue what caused whatever it is Harry did?"

"No. He said that he'd never seen or heard of anything like it. Harry's not been able to recreate even a fraction of what he did, leading Charles to be thoroughly confused. However, I think you knew that already."

"Nat, you're asking questions I can't answer."

"Why?"

"If, and only if, we find ourselves in a situation that requires me to reveal what I know, then I will gladly do it. However, until that time, I will not be answering any questions. Even if I  _ did _ have answers for what you want to know, I wouldn't be at liberty to share."

"So you don't know what Harry did, either?"

"No. I've reached out to my contacts and asked them to start investigating, but I've got no idea."

"But you know something you're not telling us."

"Of course, Agent Romanoff. Now, you're needed in California. Gabe and I can take turns taking care of Harry, or we can ask Charles if Harry can have an extended stay at the school."

"Where are you sending Clint? The man just _ died _ , Phil. I don't think he or Harry will be very separable for the next few months."

"Agent Barton is needed in New Mexico. I have no clue how long-term the mission will be, but he's needed. I wouldn't be sending him if I didn't think he was the only person for the job."

"What's in New Mexico?"

"Would you believe me if I said Norse gods?" 

##  **_Ten Years Old_ **

"Hey, Harry? Say goodbye to your classmates and go pack your bag. We've gotta go."

"What's up, Aunty Nat? Is everything okay?"

"You know how your dad was in New Mexico again?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Something happened. We've gotta get you out of here, now."

"What?! Why?"

"Would you believe me if I said Norse gods?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I killed Hawkeye.
> 
> Yes, I un-killed Hawkeye.
> 
> So... What house do you think Harry is going to be in?  
> How do you think Harry is going to react to Loki brainwashing his dad?
> 
> Get ready for more canon-typical violence. The H+Avengers don't mess around ;)


	4. Everything is Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, this is barely edited, let alone beta'd. 
> 
> So, I promise to edit this before I post the next chapter. However, I was a week late with this one, and I didn't want to get even farther behind.
> 
> See the endnotes for the rest of my thoughts :D

"When the guy's not the thing, he's like a Steven Hawking," Coulson said. 

The stranger on the plane just looked up, confusion written all over his face.

"A really smart guy," Harry said. "The Stark of your time, but ten times that smart."

"Right. I've gotta say, it's an honour to meet you, physically," Coulson said. "I mean, I sort of met you. I watched you, while you were sleeping."

"Hey, Uncle Coulson. Why don't you go check in with the pilot. Walking around a bit might help you take your foot out of your mouth and not sound like such a creep," Harry said, giving Phil a look.

"Oh, uh. Right. I'll do that," Phil said, realising what he'd just said. As he walked towards the cockpit, Harry shook his head. 

"Thanks," the stranger said. "What's your name?"

"Harry."

"I'm Steve."

"I know," Harry said. "You're sort of famous, Mr Rogers. But, I figured you wouldn't want people crawling all over you because you're famous. It sounds awful," he said, shaking his head. "Uncle Phil means well, but even he can get a bit starstruck."

"Oh. Uh, thank you, then. So, Harry, what's a kid like you doing here?"

"Long story," Harry said. 

"It sounds like we've still got a bit of time on the flight," Steve said.

"Long story short, my dad is Hawkeye."

"Wait… You mean, the one that's working for Loki?"

Harry shrugged. "I mean, working, brainwashed into doing his dirty work. Same thing, right? No one will really tell me _how_ it happened, but, whatever. They think I'm in danger. Coulson is basically my uncle, so I get to experience 'Bring Your Kid To Work' day, I guess."

"So they're bringing you to base for your own safety," Steve surmised. 

"Probably? Mr Fury's always got a hidden agenda, no matter what he does. They said it's for my security, but, let's be real. When can you ever trust what a spymaster says," Harry said, shrugging.

"Who told you that?"

"Fury's best spies. Good luck, Mr Steve. I don't know what you're getting yourself into, but I know it's not going to be easy."

"You sound a whole more grown-up than you look, kiddo."

Harry shook his head. "I'm ten, and I've had people try and kill me twice already. Maybe three times, if we count whatever's going on now. You try being a kid and growing up with _that_."

***

Harry watched, bored, as the "Avengers" rolled out. They were a ragtag group of misfits, for sure. Tony Stark, who was expected to meet them there; Steve Rogers, the superman from a lost era; Auntie Nat, the superspy assassin. 

There was something _wrong_ about the situation, though. Harry couldn't help but think how convenient it was that Loki, God of Chaos, would just… show up. Where was the subterfuge? The skill? 

He shook his head. He was missing a big piece of the equation, but he couldn't figure out _what._ Not to mention, he was more than a bit concerned about his dad. Fury was keeping secrets, which never meant anything good.

In true "son of a spy" fashion, Harry decided to try and get information. After all, he had the reputation of the family name to uphold.

Or something.

"Hey, Gabe. Do you mind if I walk around a bit?"

"Don't wanna play Galaga with me," the junior agent asked. 

Harry laughed. "I kicked your butt last time! You go warm up."

"Fury said I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight," Gabe said, sighing. "Besides, I know you too well, HPB.

"Please… You and I both know I'm an angel," Harry said. "I won't do anything bad, I promise."

Gabe glared. 

"Okay, fine. I won't get _caught_ doing anything bad. It's my _dad_ , Gabe. You know how important he is to me! I've gotta do something. It doesn't seem like anyone else is focusing on him, just Loki!"

"What about Agent Romanoff?"

"Nat's probably worried about dad, sure. But, she's going to do what Fury says because that's who she is. So, she's focusing more on the fact that we've got a rogue Norse god to deal with. Also, is it just me, or is this whole Loki thing weird?"

"I'm not going to be able to convince you to stop, am I?"

"Nope," Harry said, popping the "p" with a smile.

***

Harry was used to adults not paying him much attention. The same skills that had kept him safe from the Dursleys had become one of his greatest weapons – he was an expert at staying quiet and pretending he didn’t exist. As a result, he could pass unnoticed in nearly any environment.

As a result, he’d been able to observe everything happening on deck, with relatively little interference. Sure, Gabe had offered to play Galactica with him, but, other than that, Harry had been able to hide in plain sight. This is why, by the time the rest of the group returned, Harry had had plenty of time to think.

As Doctor Banner put his hand around the sceptre, Harry realised he’d been right.

“Auntie Nat,” Harry said, pulling on her sleeve.

“Not now, Harry.”

“Yes now,” he said, fire in his eyes. For the first time, the rest of the assembled group noticed him.

“Who’s the pipsqueak,” Tony asked, genuine confusion plain on his face.

“We told you to stay put,” Fury said, levelling his stare down at the small boy.

“You missed something,” Harry said. “It’s obvious. You’ve been so worried about what he might do. You forgot about the why. Also, Mr Director, you don't scare me. I've seen you in the fuzzy bathrobe."

"Fuzzy bathrobe?" Tony asked, "Are there photos of Eyepatch in a fuzzy bathrobe?"

"Fuzzy, pink bathrobe. With matching slippers. He wears it when he wants to watch Sex and the City and drink a glass of wine."

"You can watch people have sex?" Steve looked confusedly at the rest of the assembled adults.

"I would like that greatly," Thor said. "But, explain to me, what is this robe of bathing of which you speak? Is it necessary to watch the coitus? Can we participate, or must we simply engage visually? If we do participate, must we wear the robe of bathing? At what point does one visit this bath during the event?"

"That is level nine security clearance information, Mini-Barton," Fury growled. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "In case you all forgot, my dad's brainwashed still. That's scarier than anything you've got."

"Back to the important thing here," Nat said. "What're we missing?"

"Loki's the god of _chaos_ , yes. But he's also the god of tricks, deceit, and lies. Which means we've got two problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Thor said his brother's not acting like he usually does, right?"

Thor nodded. 

"And he's carrying a staff that makes people do things against their will, right? Makes them act out of character?"

"Shit," Bruce said. "You think that Loki's under someone's control?"

"It adds up, right? Because the second issue is, Loki's planning a frontal assault, of some kind. He's walked directly into the limelight _twice_ now. Where's the trickery? Where are the lies? If you're going to be sneaky, you'd want to make sure you've won before you ever consider revealing your hand," Harry said. "Right?"

"The small one is right," Thor said, chin resting on his hand. "This isn't Loki's way. He tricks you into giving him what he wants."

"I don't think he's fully gone, though," Steve said. "If Harry is right, then that means his big plan might not be his. But, I still think he wanted on this ship for a reason. He's got a plan."

"Agreed," Fury said. "I don't know if I buy this 'good guy Loki' story, but you're right about one thing. Out of everyone on this aircraft, I get the feeling he's the only one who wants to be here."

"While we get this figured out," Tony said. "I think everyone needs to know that that man is playing Galaga. Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

"He's practising to try and beat me," Harry said. "Leave Gabe alone."

***

"You're in trouble, mister."

Harry laughed. "You say that like it's a new thing. We're _all_ in trouble at this point, Auntie. Just look at the guys over there," Harry said. 

"What do you mean?"

"Tony Stark is a playboy asshole with no sense of who he is. Steve Rogers is an All-American icon with morals of steel. Bruce Banner turns into a giant green rage monster with anger issues the size of the man's IQ. None of them trust Fury, either."

"You picked all that up just by watching them?"

"My dad is the world's best marksman, and he's known for never missing a detail. My aunt is one of the world's premier assassin-spies. I learned a thing or two from you guys."

"So what do you think is about to happen now?"

"Steve's about to storm out and investigate. He's been uncomfortable around Fury, but he thinks of the man as his Commanding Officer, so he's been unwilling to question his orders directly. Tony bugged the computer system when he walked in, so he's liking hacking his way through the files as we speak. Bruce? Honestly, no clue."

"Well done."

"And you're about to go interrogate Loki, because he's got you feeling confused, yourself. You want to know what his plan is. Which, really, just tells me that you all don't watch enough superhero movies."

"What?"

"You know, superhero action films? Gabe's obsessed with them. Whenever you all leave me with him, we spend the week binge-watching 'em."

Nat raised her eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Loki's either going to try and turn Thor against us using the sceptre, he's going to get Banner to go into a murder-rage, _or_ he's going to have Tony and Steve tear each other apart so he doesn't have to."

"That… Actually, that makes sense."

"Also, I had an idea."

"That's never good," Nat said. 

"I know you want to go interrogate Loki and find out what he did to my dad. Which. Same."

"I'm not letting you interrogate a confirmed threat. Your dad would kill me."

"Nat," Harry said, looking her in the eyes. "Dad's currently a brainwashed tool for this jerk. He's going to try and kill you regardless."

***

"You're not the one I was expecting," Loki drawled. "They sent a child? Pity, I was looking forward to meeting Natasha once more."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I just want my dad."

"Your father? Ah, yes. The archer. He fought my control, you know. I took great joy in _breaking_ him. Or did you mean the man who birthed you? Slaughtered, just like your idiot mother."

Harry paused. No one had ever explained what had happened to his birth parents, other than Vernon's usual rant about how they died in a car crash. Slaughtered? That was new. And, more importantly, it was an interesting diversion tactic. _Cute_. 

"Why him?"

"Oh, do you really care so little for your birth parents, welp? Your precious 'father' has been useful to me," Loki said. "The real question, Harry Potter, is why do you care?"

"I'm not scared of you," Harry said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. "You just did air-quotes. That's not scary. I'm… I just want my daddy."

"Your tears mean nothing to me, _boy_."

Harry fell to his knees, bowing his head. "Why… Why did you do this? Why him?"

"I want to watch the world _burn_ ," Loki said, blue eyes full of rage. "I want to tear apart the universe, just so the scum that infests the nine realms know that I, Loki Laufeyson, am their true king. I'll make you whimpering mortals fall at my feet, son of Potter, and laugh as your blood floods the streets. And no one, not those baboons you call heroes, is going to stop me. There is no monster too great for me to master."

Harry stopped his crying, giving the god a cold smile. "So, that's your play."

"What?"

"Nat owes me twenty bucks," Harry said. 

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You're planning on having Dr Banner attack us. Aren't you?"

The look of shock on Loki's face was priceless. 

"Well done, _ptichka_ ," the redheaded woman said, emerging from the shadows.

***

"He's making weapons," Steve said, as Nat and Harry entered the room. "I got tired of waiting, figured I'd try things the old fashion way."

Harry zoned out, unimpressed with the predictability of the argument. 

"As much as I'd love to watch you two make out," Nat said, "We've got bigger issues than who's got the better dick."

Harry snickered. "She's right. Loki's planning on forcing Dr Banner to do his dirty work for him. You're an idiot, by the way. For all the smartest man in the world shit, people like to say about you, you're the dumbass trying to fulfil Loki's plan. It's not edgy to encourage someone to commit mass-murder, dumbfuck. It's stupid, immature, and proof that you're nothing but an overgrown man-baby."

"None of those words should have come out of your mouth, kid. You're what, seven?"

"Ten. And since you couldn't be an adult, I decided it we'd switch spots. Sit down, shut up, and let the big kids talk, Stark."

"You've been teaching him bad things, Red! Bad words!"

Harry walked over to Tony. "I'm sorry Mr Stark."

"It's okay, kid. Your aunt's been very naughty, though. And not in the fun way, either!"

Harry rolled his eyes, before striking Tony hard. "I'm sorry we have to put up with you. Hopefully, that will stop you from having kids. You shouldn't reproduce. You'd be a shitty dad."

Bruce and Steve's jaws dropped. 

"Uh, Uncle Nick? I just realised something."

"What?"

"You need to tell your air-traffic people not to let any planes land."

"Why?"

Before Harry could answer, the aircraft shuddered as an explosion rocked through the aircraft. 

"That's why."

***

Harry watched, hidden in the shadows, as Thor flung himself through the illusion. 

"I can't believe you actually fell for that," Loki said.

Silently, Harry agreed. More importantly, however, it confirmed something Harry had been wondering the whole time. _If this dude still has his magic, then why didn't he just poof himself out of the chamber?_

Thor pounded on the glass, forcing the mechanisms that would drop the glass dome to activate. 

Harry listened as Loki taunted his brother, when, suddenly, the man in the corner fell over. There, in all his bureaucratic glory, was Phil Coulson. Weapon in hand. 

"I'm going to have to ask you to move," Phil said. He was holding a massive gun of some kind. "Otherwise I'll get to see what this thing does."

Harry watched in horror as Loki disappeared, only to show up right behind his uncle, sceptre in hand. The blade sliced through his family's flesh, taking with it another part of the family he and Clint had created. 

"No," Harry screamed as Phil crumpled to the floor. "No!"

Loki noticed the small boy immediately.

***

"You're going to watch this pathetic fool die, _boy_. And then, when the last of his lifeblood drips onto this floor, you'll be next."

Thor watched, disgusted, as Coulson lay dying before him, and Loki advanced on the small child. To the boy's credit, Harry never flinched, fearlessly staring down the man who'd bring his death - nay, all their deaths.

Then, the strangest thing happened. 

Thor saw a change in the boy's eye colour. The once-green eyes, the colour of emeralds, darkened. The air chilled, and Thor shivered. 

" _No_ ," Harry said. "Not today."

As if forcing the fates to bend to his will, the stain of red blossoming from Coulson's chest began to shrink. It was like Harry had commanded Death to leave the man in peace.

"What," Coulson said, sluggishly moving an arm towards the once-open wound. "How?"

Loki turned, unused to his victims escaping death. "What?"

Loki's back turned, he never saw the attack coming. A glowing, angry, red ball of energy crashed into him, forcing him to the ground. No mortal could have survived such a blast of energy, so great was its power. 

Thor turned his head, only to find Harry, arm outstretched, eyes black as night. The darkness slowly faded into nothingness, leaving Harry's eyes green once more. 

Harry raced towards Coulson, wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

"It's okay, Harry. You're safe. We're both safe."

"Um, might I ask that one of you let me out?"

***

"Dad," Harry shouted, running towards Clint. 

The minute Clint saw his son, he dropped everything and ran to meet the boy. The hug they gave each other was bonecrushing, the borderline-pain a reminder that they were both alive. Wrapped up in his father's arms, Harry couldn't imagine anywhere better.

"I'm so sorry, Har. I'm so, so sorry," Clint cried. 

"It's alright, dad," Harry said. 

"It's not, Har… I hurt people. I killed people. People I knew, people I worked with," Clint said, between sobs. 

"I still love you, dad," Harry said. 

They went on for several minutes, unwilling and unable to let go. When Natasha walked back into her friend's room, she paused. 

"Clint."

"Nat," the archer said, looking up.

"You're looking better. Ignoring the black eye, of course."

Clint chucked. "How bad are the damages," he asked. 

"Don't do this to yourself, Clint," she warned. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was."

"It wasn't," Harry said. "And I don't think it was Loki's, either."

"What do you mean," Clint asked. "That bastard's the one who made me do everything!"

Before Harry could respond, Steve appeared in the doorway. "Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff. Fury wants us on the deck, if you're up to it."

***

"Mini-Barton, if I wanted you here, I would have asked for you."

Barton, Natasha, and Harry all gave Fury a glare. However, before any of them could say anything, Thor shook his head. "No, Director of Fury. The young warrior shall stay. He has earned his place at the war table, just like any other fighter."

"Excuse me," Fury said. "But you're not in charge."

"Screw that. What's this about you being a warrior," Clint asked, looking down at his son.

"The young fighter was most impressive on the battlefield, today," Thor said.

"Harry James Potter Barton. _What did you do?"_

"Ouch, the full name," Tony muttered. 

"He saved my life," Phil said, stepping on to the platform.

"What?"

"Agent, glad to see you're not dead," Fury said. 

"What do you mean, not dead," Natasha asked. 

"Loki impaled Agent Coulson here with the sceptre. Harry intervened. Loki's unconscious, and Coulson's still alive," Fury's assistant said. 

"You _what_ ," Clint said, holding his son closer in his arms. "You were in so much danger."

"He ran headfirst into danger, not considering the consequences, and it worked out for him."

"I'm never letting you go," Clint said, crying into Harry's hair. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere, dad," Harry whispered back. "Promise."

Hoping to give Clint a moment to be with his child, Steve asked, "How many casualties were there on-board?"

"None."

"That's impossible," Clint said, still nestled close to his son. Keeping his face hidden, he said, "I know I shot at least ten agents when we broke in."

Harry pat his father's back. "It's okay, dad."

"Somehow, none of the shots you took were lethal. They should have been, but luck was on our side. The crew you broke in with, however, was decimated."

"What? You're saying I missed?"

Turning from Harry to face Fury, Clint grimaced. If the gathered heroes saw that, although his cheeks were tear-stained, then they kept it to themselves. 

"No, I'm not. Your shots, which, by all means, should have been lethal, didn't kill any of the agents aboard this ship."

"You're kidding me..."

"I assure you, Agent, I am not. You did not cause any casualties on our side. Neither," Fury said, turning to face Dr. Banner, "Did you."

"I threw a guy out of his plane."

"Yes, and he has radioed in to inform us that he was fine."

"And you're saying that all of the attacking forces were killed?"

"Yes. Not a single one survived. Their injuries are, admittedly, a bit curious, because we can't find any bullet casings around their bodies. However, I'm not going to complain," Fury said. "Get some rest. We'll debrief in a few hours. And Barton, I'm going to want to speak with you later about whatever it was Loki was planning. But for now, get some rest. You look like the walking dead."

***

Loki had never suffered from a headache as severe as the one he woke up with. Once again trapped in the green room, he tried to remember what had happened; however, whenever he thought back to _then_ , he was consumed by the fires of his pain. 

The torture had been all-consuming, endless and limitless in its brutality. Cruelty, for the sheer sake of cruelty. He remembered laughter, cold and empty, as muscle was torn from bone. As bones shattered like glass. As his lungs burned and his heart weeped. 

The sceptre.

It had pierced his flesh countless times, slicing his skin into strips and his sanity into ribbons. 

It had severed the very essence of the what that he was from the who that he was. 

And then, there had been the cold.

Loki had never felt cold, due to his jotunn heritage. He'd never stopped to wonder how the frost could bite.

Then, he hadn't needed to.

 _He_ had seen to it that Loki became intimately acquainted with the cold. 

How frost tore at flesh, how chill settled into the marrow of bone.

It should have been impossible for him to suffer so, which made the horror of his pain all the more sweet to his captors. 

"There is no solace from Death," he'd been told. 

"Rejoice in your suffering, _Ice King._ Your pain is the ultimate sacrifice to Our Lady."

"You have no need for your sanity, _Frozen One_. Shed it, and revel in the beauty of your demise."

Loki's mind had been his own, before.

Before the Mad Titan could take root in his sanity, could pervert his mind.

The days, or years, or aeons of torment… Loki had no clue how long he'd been trapped in the cage of his abuse. 

He lost himself to the darkness, seeking solace from the barbarity. 

His last defence broke soon thereafter. 

To his utter surprise, however, Loki felt reprieve. For the first time in months, he was faced with no new pain. 

Instead, there was _Blue_. 

It illuminated his darkness, promising to mend his broken bones and patch his broken spirit. 

For an untold amount of time, the Blue seeped into Loki's every wound. The scars, left open by the Titan and his Torturer, faded into silvery marks against otherwise unblemished skin.

With the Blue, he was whole once more.

It was easy to follow the Blue, Loki found. He craved the way it soothed his aches, relieved him of his nightmares. 

He'd fought it, once, when he questioned _why_ he was so hellbent on terrorising the Earth. The pain that followed his disobedience left no question in his mind. He would follow the Blue, and he would bask in its power. The Blue saved him. He would never leave the Blue. 

That was, of course, until he found himself staring down the sceptre into the eyes the colour of chaos. 

The _green_ in those eyes was the exact colour of Loki's own core, before it had been hidden by the Blue.

Loki, at his very essence, was Green. He was a creature of chaos, bound to Mother Magic. There was no part of him that should belong to Blue. 

There was something wrong with the Blue, Loki thought, trapped in his cage. It was aggressive, flooding his mind with a silver-blue.

It was Wrong.

But, in any case, it was not the colour of Loki. If it hadn't been for the child, eyes the colour of Loki's truest magic, then Loki would have never known freedom again. Those eyes, revealing traces of a power more advanced than Loki would ever know, darkened into something beyond the Darkness. 

There was no freedom in the Darkness, yet the boy's eyes, turning Darker than anything he'd ever seen, liberated him from his cage. There was something familiar about the boy, as well. If Loki didn't know any better, it was as if he were staring at his own child. 

The small one had magic, most definitely. And, if Loki were to try the Fates, he'd quite comfortably wager that the boy's magic was stronger than most. Quite likely, it was Blessed.

In the mere minutes he'd spent in the boy's presence, there was strong evidence of a Royal Twice-Folded Blessing. Forcing his mind, feeble as it was, to remember, Loki felt the comforting hug of his adopted mother's magic; the whirling, unmastered destruction of his brother; the steady, forceful, unforgiving energy of the All-Father; and, of course, the controlled, skilful chaos of his own prowess. 

Although, as far as he was aware, never before in the history of Asgard had such a child been born. Theoretically, of course, such a child was possible. However, never before had he heard of someone with four Godly Blessings. 

Thinking back to the Time of Open Borders, when Odin had been willing to consider truly ruling the Nine Realms. He'd been far too much of a feckless coward to truly bring Asgard's presence into the other realms, but, for a time, Asgardians had enjoyed relatively open borders. It was then, of course, that the majority of Asgardians first became enamoured with the weak, yet resilient little Midgardians. 

When a Midgardian was particularly impressive, the Asgardians most wowed would impart that family with the Blessing of their essence. A miniscule amount of the Magic of Yggdrasil would join the bloodline of that family. These families, most frequently, found they could harness the elements more meaningfully, as a result. 

Loki had only ever blessed one bloodline. Thor, Frigga, and Odin had given their blessing to two or three houses, but Loki had only ever been impressed with one wizard. 

Asgardians, of course, were magical in nature, though not all Asgardians were magical. Their relative immortality stemmed from the allowances of Lady Magic and Lord Death, giving them a core of the ethereal elements of Yggdrasil. It was from thence that the apples of Idunn came, of course. Elements of magic flowed through their veins, though not all were able to master seidr. 

Loki shook his head, forcing him from the past. That boy, who'd fiercely defended the man he'd attacked. That boy, with emerald eyes full of _Green_. The boy's energy was of his own, most certainly. Altered, by the other three lines who'd mixed with him, but of his own. For the first time, in more than a thousand years, he felt the traces of his own Blessing.

There was more than just Asgardian magic, but Loki could not be bothered with anything but the exhilaration of feeling the sameness that his own magic offered. 

And that masterful manipulation the young boy had pulled. He'd been given training in lying that not even Loki, hailed as the god of lies on this planet, could have given. To be so fully capable of catching answers out of smoke, it was incredible. 

He'd chosen well, when he'd chosen his line. 

_Fucking hell_.

He'd tried to kill his own Blessed!

The tidal wave of Blue that had seeped into his mind would never have been able to hold a candle to the storm of guilt that ignited in Loki at the thought of tearing the life from those small, fearless green eyes. 

***

"Get that fucking thing away from me," Loki said. "I never want to see it again."

Nicolas Fury shook his head. "We need to know what you did. This _thing_ managed to force one of my best men into being your _dancing monkey_. How. Did. You. Do. It."

"I'll answer any question you have for me, Director. But, I request only that you get that monstrosity away from me."

"Do what he says," the Archer called out. "Get the sceptre away from him, Nick."

"Barton, this doesn't concern you. I thought I told you to rest?"

"With all due respect, _Director._ Bullshit. This fucker scrambled my brains with that thing. You think it's a good idea to wave it in front of his fucking face? For what? So he can take over again, put us all through hell?"

"He's right," another voice called. The Soldier. "You're out of line, Fury. We're all scared of that thing. Taunting him with it won't get us any answers."

"Soldier, stand down."

"No, I don't think I will," the Soldier said. "Might be time to stop pretending I care what the higher ups think. You're making a mistake here, just like you are with those weapons you're trying to make."

The Director glared at the tall, blond warrior, before ultimately leaving with a huff. 

"The fuck was Fury thinking," the archer raged. 

"You know, I don't know."

"Clint Barton, by the way."

"Steve Rogers. Listen, I was thinking of going and watching one of those movies that Harry was talking about, earlier. Do you know where he is?"

"Har-bear? Probably in his room."

"Mind showing me where it is?"

The Archer smiled. "Follow me, Cap."

"I'd prefer Steve, if you don't mind," the Soldier said. Loki couldn't miss the smile in his voice. 

As Clint Barton walked away, Loki realised what had drawn him to the archer in the first place. 

***

"I know you have no reason to trust me," Loki said. "I don't know why you came here, or what your goal was. But, I cannot begin to impress upon you how important it is that you let me go. Selvig still has the tesseract, and the sceptre's control over him hasn't been broken. You have to believe me, if he finishes his machine, there is no hope for any of us."

Harry thought for a moment. If what Loki was saying was true, then the danger hadn't even begun to pass. In fact, the true danger was still looming, waiting for the signal to attack.

"Two conditions. You're not allowed to touch the staff."

"What? No, I can't trust anyone else! I have to do it."

"You just said that the staff has some kind of power over you, so _no._ Which is why we've got the second condition."

"What?"

"I'm coming with."

" _What?"_

"Do we have a deal, or not?"

"Deal, deal, yes. I even swear upon my magic."

Harry smiled. "Well then. Let's go save the world, Reindeer Games."

***

Steve, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Thor and Bruce watched in horror as Harry smiled, slamming his fist on the release button. Loki ran out, grabbing the young boy's hand. In a flash, they were gone. Fury had yet to walk into the debrief room, but they expected him to appear any second.

Before anyone could speak, however, they heard a clap behind them. Clint turned around, only to see his son behind him. Harry, with his rat's nest of black hair and his vibrant green eyes, had one hand around the sceptre. His other hand was holding Loki's hand. 

"Harry?!"

"You've gotta trust me, Dad."

"Harry!"

"See you at home!"

Just like that, his son was gone. With another clap, Loki disappeared, dragging his son and that fucking sceptre with him. 

"I'm going to kill the bastard."

"We'll get him back," Steve said.

"He's right," Tony said. "We'll get Shortstack back."

Natasha asked, "What did he mean when he said he'd see you at home?"

"We live in Bed-Stuy. I've got an apartment there. Um..."

"Loki stole your son and the sceptre to take them to… Bed-Stuy? What would he be doing there?"

"Where is this Bed-Stuy? What kingdom is this?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not now, Thor," he said, placing a hand on the Asgardian's bicep. 

"Come on, there's gotta be a reason. Clint, did Loki ever mention what he wanted the tesseract for?"

"He… He was building something. I didn't really understand what it was, some kind of portal."

"Could he open the portal from Bed-Stuy?"

"No… It needed to be up high. None of the buildings in my neighbourhood were tall enough. And it needed an energy source. A big one."

"Energy source," Steve asked. "What if he didn't mean home as in Bed-Stuy, Clint. What if he meant New York?"

"What," Tony asked. Then, his draw dropped. "That fucking bastard. He didn't?"

"Didn't what," Natasha asked. 

"Stark Tower. It's got one hell of a power source," Tony bit out. "Well, how the fuck do we get ourselves to New York from here?"

"We could always steal a plane," Natasha suggested. "Clint's an expert pilot."

"Are you seriously suggesting going behind Eyepatch on this one?"

"No one hurts my _ptichka."_

"Well then, let's get going. We've got a Mini-Barton to save!"

"Don't forget the rest of the world, Tony."

"That too!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...
> 
> I admittedly wasn't the happiest with the way some of the confrontations worked out in the first half of the chapter. There's a massive chance I'll be addressing that in my editing... But, what did you think? Also, note that there is now a final chapter number for this arc! Don't worry - we've still got seven whole years worth of Hogwarts to get through, as well as a few summers. 
> 
> What the hell is Harry up to?  
> Can we *really* trust Loki?  
> Who do you think Loki's Blessing was given to? (Also, note - I totally am recycling the blessing idea from the first version of this story, sorry not sorry)  
> How did the Shield agents not die?  
> Aaaand, of course... After this chapter, what Hogwarts house do you think Harry will end up in?  
> Who do you think Harry will end up being close friends with at Hogwarts? Will we have a Golden Trio?


	5. Let's Do the Monster Smash!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's bolded (but *not* italicised), then it's a direct quote! :)

"Sit."

Harry looked around, unimpressed, before doing as asked. "What do you want, Uncle Nick?"

"I'll get straight to the point. We've dealt with Loki, but we still don't know what he was planning. No matter who we send to speak with him, he's still refusing to talk."

"Okay… and?"

"You were able to get him to talk earlier. Although Coulson and Hill disagree with me, I think you'd be able to get him to talk again."

"You remember I'm  _ ten _ , right?"

"Listen, the team that I'd hoped to bring together to fight in these types of situations are… Well, you've seen them. Loki's plans won't stop just because he's locked up here."

"So, you're leaving the fate of the world in the hands of a  _ ten-year-old _ ?"

"Damit, Mini-Barton. I don't like this any more than you do. I've got the entire power of SHIELD behind me, and I'm stuck asking a  _ kid _ for help. But, I'm out of options!"

Harry shook his head. "My dad is going to  _ kill _ you if he finds out. You do know that, right?"

"If you don't do this, then he won't be alive long enough to have the chance."

"Fine. What do you need me to do?"

***

Harry shook his head, before walking into the room where he'd almost watched his uncle die. Idly, he wondered if he should see if SHIELD had therapy available for kids. With how incompetent the adults around him seemed to be, SHIELD owed him at least a few hours with a shrink. Right?

Loki sat on the floor, his forehead against the glass of his enclosure. 

"I know you could have magicked your way out of the cage."

Loki looked up at that. "And what makes you think that I am capable of that,  _ mortal _ ."

"You're telling me Loki, the infamous Asgardian mage, can't figure out how to escape  _ glass _ ? Wow, you Asgardians really aren't impressive, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Harry repeated. He'd never been one to play the role of bully, but he figured if he wanted to get anywhere, then Loki would need a bit of a slap to the face. "What happened to the great  _ Loki _ , master of strategy and future ruler of worlds? You really expect me to believe that you're going to let  _ glass _ keep you from breaking out?"

"Why would you hope I escaped? I tore your family in half, nearly killed everyone you hold dear. Perhaps the question isn't whether I can escape, but if I  _ deserve _ to escape. I nearly killed you."

"You nearly killed a lot of people. Doesn't mean you did."

At that, Loki's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"According to Uncle Nick, SHIELD didn't lose any men in your attack. On the helicarrier, at least."

"But… That's impossible! I've felt Death throughout this blasted machine!"

"Yeah, you're right. Your guys got slaughtered. The Avengers, and our side? Not so much."

"That can't be possible!"

"I'm currently talking with a Norse god from mythology, who mind-controlled my dad, and whose butt I kicked. While I was  _ ten _ . Somehow. No idea  _ how _ , mind you, but I kicked your butt.  _ No _ , don't deny it. Anyways, I think 'impossible' stopped being a thing a long time ago."

"So, why are you here then?"

"You had a plan before you attacked here. The blue cube thing? What were you planning to do with it?"

At that, Loki paled. How could he have been so  _ stupid _ ? Forgetting the quest he'd been given, the Mad Titan's torturous ways, the otherworldly blue of the Tesseract…  _ The portal! _ Odin's left eye, how could he have forgotten the impending doom he'd been so willing to wreak unto this world. 

_ Motherfucker _ .

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

"The… The Tesseract. I'd been planning on… Child, you must let me go! Please! Your world is in grave danger!" 

"You're telling me you're not the great danger, then?"

"Child, there is an army of locustous wretches on their way to lay waste to your planet," Loki said, jumping to his feet. "An army unlike any your world has ever seen. They will ravage your planet, slaughtering everything in their path. I was sent to open a portal between their galaxy and yours."

"That does sound like an issue," Harry said. When Fury had asked him to get information, he probably didn't intend for Harry to actually  _ help _ Loki… Had he? Or was that the goal? Nick was always playing three games at once. "Wait. Why do you need me to let you out? What happened to your magic?"

Loki groaned. "I'm concerned I wouldn't be able to control my energy, if you must know. The sceptre… It has compulsive energies surrounding it. It was as much a punishment as it was a tool. Anyone of magical origin gains immense power from the sceptre, but at the price of their own magic. I've been regaining my magic since your heroes captured me."

"So, you're useless?"

"I'd rather not find myself trapped within the glass, thank you very much."

"What were your plans for getting to New York, then?"

"What makes you say the portal is in New York?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please. You picked Stark Tower, didn't you? They just did that energy thing, so you'd have a power source. Plus, it would be the best way to make Mr. Stark angry. The tower's a giant monument to him, and you'd probably think it was funny to turn it against him."

"Fine. You're right, Stark Tower is where Selvig is planning to open the portal."

"I know you have no reason to trust me," Loki said. "I don't know why you came here, or what your goal was. But, I cannot begin to impress upon you how important it is that you let me go. Selvig still has the tesseract, and the scepter's control over him hasn't been broken. You have to believe me, if he finishes his machine, there is no hope for any of us."

Harry thought for a moment. If what Loki was saying was true, then the danger hadn't even begun to pass. In fact, the true danger was still looming, waiting for the signal to attack.

"Two conditions. You're not allowed to touch the staff."

"What? No, I can't trust anyone else! I have to do it."

"You just said that the staff has some kind of power over you, so  _ no. _ Which is why we've got the second condition."

"What?"

"I'm coming with."

" _ What?" _

"Do we have a deal, or not?"

"Deal, deal, yes. I even swear upon my magic."

Harry smiled. "Well then. Let's go save the world, Reindeer Games."

***

"Are you certain that the sceptre doesn't feel painful?"

"No, not at all. It's just… Well, it's a big stick. It feels like a stick. Is it supposed to feel any other way? It's just a pointy magic stick."

"Curious."

Confusion coloured Harry's face as he gave Loki a look. "What do you mean?"

"The sceptre, it only ever felt angry when I held it. It functioned almost like a Midgardian focus of magic, in that it didn't seem particularly pleased to be used by me."

"Is that really the most important thing here?"

"Right… That can wait, you're correct."

They both turned to face the portal machine, watching as Selvig fiddled with the controls. 

" _ Shit _ . My dad is going to be so mad at me," Harry moaned. "Seriously, I'm going to be grounded until I  _ die _ ."

"If we don't deal with this issue, then your punishment will hardly be your largest concern, child."

"Harry."

"What?"

"If we're going to do this, you should call me by my name."

"Fine. Harry. Now, we need a plan," Loki said. 

Harry just looked up at the Asgardian and rolled his eyes. He darted out from their cover.

"Shut it down, Dr. Selvig."

**"It's too late,"** the man said.  **"** **She wants to show us something! A new universe."**

Before he knew what was happening, Harry was upon him. With the hand not gripping the sceptre, Harry delivered his best left hook. Loki couldn't help but wince at the crunching sound. Before the possessed scientist could react, Harry followed up with an impressive uppercut and a quick jab to the solar plexus. 

The blue light flickered from his eyes, just as it had with Clint and Loki. It appeared that violence was an effective cure to the sceptre's powers. For good measure, Harry delivered a final blow, right to the forehead. 

"Harry, while I understand your frustration, that was hardly a good idea," Loki said. "I haven't the foggiest idea of how to shut this down."

"You couldn't have said that earlier," Harry shouted back. "Really? You waited until  _ after _ I dealt with him to say that?"

"How was I supposed to know you'd do that?"

"What exactly were you planning on doing?"

"I… I was…," Loki started. "I was going to do..."

**"** **Shut it down** **_,_ ** **_"_ ** a voice rang out. Iron Man flew up, his suit looking more than a bit worse for wear. 

"We're trying," Harry shouted back.

"Stand back."

"No, don't," Loki called out, as Tony engaged his arm-lasers. The energy was absorbed into the field surrounding the portal machine for a moment, before it sent the energy back out in a large blast.

"Help," Harry screamed, as the wave of energy flung him from his position on the roof. 

Loki watched in horror as Stark struggled to right himself, ignorant of the small boy's plight. There was only one thing he could do, now. "Stark, meet me in the penthouse," he called out, apparating himself to save the falling boy.

A moment later, Loki found himself laying Harry down on one of the couches in the ostentatious room. "Please tell me you're willing to help me."

**"Uh, actually, I'm planning to threaten you."**

"What?"

**"Would you like a drink?"**

"Stalling won't do anything," Loki said, unable to keep the frantic edge from his voice. 

**"No drink? You sure? I'm having one."**

**"The Chitauri are coming,"** Loki said, striding over to the window. He couldn't help but look upwards, concerned. "We don't have time for this."

"The Chitauri? No, we're the  **Avengers. It takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demigod; a super soldier, a living legend who kinda lives up to the legend; a man with breathtaking anger issues, a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella, you've managed to piss every single one of them all off** .  Brainwashing Mini-Barton didn't earn you any favours, that's for sure."

"What are you going on about," Loki asked.

"This is the part where you try and attack me. Maybe use that sceptre over there to try and take my mind over, only to realise I've got a chunk of metal in my chest. I'm sorry, are you not reading the script? I could have sworn these villain confrontations followed a pattern."

"What the fuck?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, are you wearing contacts or something? I could have sworn your eyes have changed colour."

"We don't have time for this, you fool. The Chitauri are coming! You need to ready your militaries," Loki said. 

Stark looked taken aback at that. "So, you're not trying to kill us?"

"It appears that your archer and the scientist weren't the only ones under the sceptre's influence."

"Then why did you kidnap Short Stack?! And how come he's passed out?"

"Kidnap? What are you going on about? He came here of his own volition! Your bloody gun made the shield around the portal machine blast back at us. He was thrown from the building, likely passed out of shock or fear. "

" _ What?!" _

"Honestly, Stark, we can deal with this later. We have an impending invasion to deal with, and I would rather that we all not die."

"So you're on our side?"

Before Loki could answer, the machine on the roof fired off a column of energy into the sky. 

The Chitauri had arrived.

"I'll protect the child, Stark.  _ Go _ !"

***

An hour later, Harry was woken from his unconsciousness by a warmth in his hand. It was, for lack of a better word, impossibly comfortable. A hug, crafted by the universe for… someone else, but whose every curve and plane was perfectly compatible with him. 

He couldn't begin to imagine what had happened, and he was more than a bit confused. The last thing he remembered was the roof, and then…  _ falling.  _

Futz.

Was he dead?

Did this mean he'd never get to give Lucky another hug, or make coffee for his dad after a long mission? 

He'd never get to thank Clint for taking him in, for treating him as his own, or for loving him no matter what?

No more rooftop grill parties?

Harry opened his eyes to a loud crash. He barely had time to think before he jumped to his feet. Creatures… the Chitauri, he remembered, had breached the room he was in. Instinctually, his hand gripped the hard, metal shaft of the sceptre tighter. He was  _ alive! _ And now, it was time to make sure he stayed that way. 

In the back of his mind, a presence appeared. There was no other way to describe it. It whispered, " _ Bombarda _ ."

As the Chitauri advanced, clearly drawn to the power of the sceptre, Harry listened to the voice.

"Bombarda!"

A blast of light shot from the sceptre, and, before Harry understood what was happening, the invading forces were blasted away. Much like Harry had, a short time ago, the creatures were flung from where they stood, sent flying into the air.

Unlike Harry, they had no salvation. 

"Wicked."

Running to the window, he saw Loki doing battle with seven or eight of the Chitauri creatures. He looked exhausted, and they were steadily gaining ground on him. "Let's try this again.  _ Bombarda!" _

The aliens were flung from the balcony, sent to their deaths below. Loki turned around, only for his jaw to drop in shock at the sight of Harry, sceptre in hand, pointed at where his assailants had been.

The Asgardian ran inside. "Harry, you're alive! You're awake!"

"I guess so," he responded. 

"But… How were you able to use the sceptre?"

"Um… I'm not sure," Harry said, voice raising at the end. 

"No matter. We need to shut the machine down."

"Well, what are we waiting for," Harry asked. 

"Indeed," the god replied, with a smirk. 

***

"Just how complicated do you need to make roof access," Harry complained. 

"Stark is rather ridiculous," Loki agreed. It had taken them three different staircases, ten flights of stairs, and a total of thirteen security doors to find the correct rooftop. In his battle-weary state, Loki couldn't have hated Stark more than he did in that moment. 

"Harry?!"

"Aunty Nat?!"

"Harry, get away from him!"

"No, he's on our side now! I promise!"

Natasha eyed Loki with distrust. "Hurt him, and I will end you, Loki. I don't give a damn if you're immortal. It just means I'll have more time to  _ make you hurt _ ."

"Understood. Now, if you're done being terrifying, Miss Romanoff, I believe we have a portal to close."

"Really, Aunty?"

"You don't get to complain, you're in league with an interdimensional villain."

"Dad is going to kill me, isn't he?"

"Maybe your new friend can speak at your funeral."

"I blame Uncle Nick," Harry said, shaking his head. 

**"** **The sceptre** **,** " a feeble voice said. Erik Selvig, crumpled on the floor, looked at the group with trepidation.  **"** **Loki's sceptre. The energy. The Tesseract can't fight, but you can't protect against yourself."**

**"It's not your fault, you didn't know what you were doing** **,** **"** Natasha said. 

**"Actually, I think I did. I built in a safety, to cut the power source.** That sceptre, in the boy's hands?  **It may be able to close the portal."**

Harry asked, "How?"

"It should be able to breach the shield," the scientist explained. 

"Let me," Nat said, holding her hand out.

"Together," Harry replied. "We're doing this together."

Pressing a finger to her ear, Natasha said,  **"** **I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down."**

She was silent for a moment, and then her face dropped. "They've sent a nuclear missile. Stark's going to try and send it through the portal."

"But that's a one-way trip," Loki said. "There's no way for him to come back!"

"He knows."

As she spoke, Iron Man flew upwards, missile on his back. Within seconds, he'd breached the perimeter of the portal, and moments later, the boom of the explosion could be heard on Earth. 

The angry, molten orange of the nuclear blast moved closer and closer to the door between spaces, as the heroes watched with bated breath. 

"Steve said to close it."

"But Mr. Stark!"

"He knew what he was doing, Harry," Loki said. "If we don't do this now, then his choice will have been in vain."

Sharing a look with his aunt, Harry once again moved into position. "For Iron Man," he said, jabbing the sceptre through the energy field. As the weapon pushed the glowing blue cube out of place, the beam of energy that opened the portal began to dissipate. 

They stood together, watching as the gateway closed. Harry sucked in a breath, however, when he saw the speck falling through the sky. "He did it!"

Nat broke into a smile, only for her to realise the same thing that Thor did, down below. 

**"** **He's not slowing down** **."**

Loki couldn't help but burst into laughter as the Hulk flew through the air. "That creature has all the grace of a Bilgesnipe, but Odin's beard is he handy to have around."

"We need to get down there," Harry said. 

"Grab on."

***

The next thing they knew, the trickster, the assassin, and the child found themselves next to the prince, the soldier, the beast, and the man who, ultimately, had saved the world. 

Hulk, upon seeing the green-clad sorcerer, promptly grabbed him by the cape and flung him into the dirt. 

_ Bam. _

_ Bam. _

_ Bam. _

_ Bam. _

_ Bam. _

"Puny god, green my colour," the Hulk said. 

"Hey! He's a good guy now!"

"Hulk no share green," the giant said, with a roar.

"Someone, please tell me they recorded that," Tony's weak voice called out.

"Tony!"

"What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

"We won," Steve said. 

"Nice. Why don't we all take the day off tomorrow?"

Everybody laughed at that. 

As Loki struggled to stand, he said, "I'll take that drink now, if you don't mind, Tony."

"Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."

"That works too," Loki said, reaching his hand out. 

***

The months that followed were, to put it bluntly, chaotic. The majority of Harry's summer was spent, unsurprisingly, by being grounded. After handing the sceptre off to his Uncles Phil and Fury, Harry found himself wrapped in the tightest hug he'd ever experienced. 

That hug had been followed by the most thorough scolding imaginable. Everyone, from his dad, to Captain America, to Katie-Kate, to Tony's… Actually, Harry wasn't quite sure who she was. All he knew was that she was an expert at making people feel guilty. Even Lucky had joined in, refusing to give him a cuddle for three days. 

And, of course, that didn't even begin to describe how angry his friends from the Institute had been, of course. When he was finally able to see them, the reactions had left Harry feeling both loved and hurt. Bobby and St. John, Harry's closest friends, couldn't decide if they were furious that he'd done something so stupid, or if they were jealous that he hadn't brought him along. Kitty and Jubilee, the other members of their friend group, had both slapped him and then hugged him tight. He wasn't sure which hurt more, the bone-crushing hugs or the slaps to the face.

The only people not horrendously angry with him were Loki, Thor, and Nicolas Fury. Loki, of course, found himself oddly attached to the little guy. Although he hadn't provided any explanations as to why that may be, he'd promised to return before Harry's eleventh birthday. Apparently, he'd shed some light on his behaviour then. 

Thor had nothing but respect for the lad. He'd hoisted Harry up on his shoulders, and they'd paraded around the park for an hour. In that time, Thor had created several odes to Harry's skill and power, and everyone in the park had heard the tale of the "Young Warrior with Supreme Testicular Fortitude." In the end, Harry was pretty sure it was Tony's fault. 

Harry was fairly certain that Fury had intended for Harry to run off with Loki, as the only thing his uncle had said was, "They're a team because of you."

Although Loki and Thor returned to Asgard with the Tesseract, they promised to be back soon. Tony, in true 'idiotic billionaire with too much money' fashion, had decided to renovate Stark tower to allow for all of the Avengers to have apartments in the building. After all, they'd need a place to call home. 

***

"Dad, the DVR's not working!"

"What? But… It's Thursday!"

Harry nodded. "I know! But I can't get the TV to work, either!"

"Futz, Harry, what are we going to do?"

"Um… We could call Uncle Tony?"

Clint grumbled. "Let me take a look at it, and if we can't get it working then I'll call."

"'Kay, Dad," Harry said. 

Although he was still grounded, Clint would never keep Harry from watching their favourite show together. In fact, being grounded really didn't mean much to Clint. He'd told Harry that he wasn't allowed to leave the house without supervision in the form of either Hawkeye, and that he had to practice his archery a bit extra. Other than that, it was a pretty typical summer.

They'd been to every cookout night, and, because Clint refused to let Harry leave his sight for longer than ten minutes, Harry had never spent more time at the archery range than he did that summer. 

If Harry was being honest, it wasn't so much that he was grounded, as much as Clint didn't want him running off with Norse gods any time soon. Which, to be fair, was a valid parenting concern, in Harry's opinion. 

An hour later, Harry heard Tony's voice from down the hall. Although Harry was still of the opinion the man had some work to do before he'd be a great dad, he and Tony had found they had a similar sense of humour and bonded quickly. Tony, to his credit, was quick to forgive. Apparently, facing the trauma of losing your only parent, after already being an abused orphan, meant you were allowed to be a bit rude. Plus, he paid Harry to teach him how to punch that well. 

He put down the book he'd been reading and hurried down the hall to give his newest uncle a hug. In part, because he really, really wanted to see if he could squeeze some tact into the man. 

"Hey, Shortstack! How's your summer been?"

"Pretty good, Uncle T. How're things at the tower?"

"Great, great. Nat moved in last week, Bruce's lab finally got set up, and Thor's room just got finished. All we're waiting on is our blonds to pack up and move in, and then we're good to go."

"Not moving, Tony. I like my place here," Clint replied. 

"20 bucks says you move in before Rogers does, Barton."

"Deal. Now fix the TV, please," the archer said, drawing the last word out.

"Yeah, yeah, let me see what I'm working with," he said. 

Harry and Clint led Tony over to their TV setup, and Tony promptly let out a shriek. "Holy fuck, what the hell is this," he screamed.

"Tony! We've got a kid in the room! Language!"

"You're telling me to watch me language at a time like  _ this _ ? I don't even know how this is supposed to work! Barton, that thing is 80% duct tape at this point! It's a monstrosity! How do you use it?"

"Sheer will, and a bit of banging the remote against the top," Harry said. When his dad shot him a glare, Harry just shrugged. It's not like it wasn't the truth.

"Can you make it work, or not?"

"It's gonna have to be a no from me, Hawkguy. Seriously, I think that cable box is as old as Harry is!"

"Can you actually not fix it, or is this just part of your plan to get us to move into the Tower," Harry asked.

"You wound me, Baby Hawk. Words can hurt, you know," Tony said.

"You'd need a heart for words to hurt, Uncle Tony. Last time I checked, you've got a magnet," Harry said, smiling. 

Tony opened his mouth to respond, before shaking his head. "I can't even argue with that. Your child is too smart for his own good, Legolas. But seriously, I'd need to outfit the apartment with new gear. I saw you have satellite, I can upgrade the building for you, but it'd take a few days."

"But…  _ Dog Cops _ is tomorrow night!"

"Dog… Cops?"

"It's our favourite show," Harry explained. "Dad and I try and watch it together every week. He picks me up from school, and then we watch the show that night. It's the season finale this week."

"Just watch it at the Tower. We can get everyone, invite Steve, make a thing of it. You're welcome to come back here once it's over, if you want."

"I'm not moving into your futzing Tower, Tony."

"Not saying you have to. But, we've got surround-sound, flat screens, a couple thousand channels. Think about it!"

"Can you give me a minute with my dad, Iron Uncle?"

"Sure, kiddo."

Harry dragged his father into his room. "Dad, Simone's been talking about how her kids need to use the internet to do homework but can't get a good connection here for months. If you let Tony upgrade the TV systems, maybe we can get him to throw in better wifi for the whole building."

"You know how I feel about that kind of thing though, Har."

"I know, but it's making the lives of your tenants harder. I know it's not your favourite idea, but it'll help everyone if you do."

"I dunno..."

"Trust me, it's the best idea so far. Plus, I don't think Tony knows how to ask if he can do things for people. I think he likes to show he cares by spending money on people, but he's not used to people wanting to be around him, not his money. It's like with the Tower. He told us he made us a super nice floor for us, because he doesn't know how to actually ask us to move in."

Clint sighed. "I don't remember telling you that you're allowed to be this smart, kiddo."

Harry grinned at his dad in response. "Remember, he's a giant man-child who didn't get loved enough as a kid, so he doesn't know how to show others he loves them."

"I barely know him, though."

"Yeah, but he likes me," Harry said with a wink. 

"I don't remember raising you to be such an asshole. I blame Kate."

"Please, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,  _ Dad _ ," said Harry, laughing. 

"Fine. Let's go tell Tin Can we're doing movie night at his place, then." 

***

"I can't believe he's paying for everyone to spend the week in a five star hotel while he upgrades the building. Har, what were we thinking?"

"We? I totally saw this coming. I'm not sure how you  _ didn't _ , Dad. He's probably going to renovate all the apartments for you, too. Now, quit complaining and hand me that suitcase, please."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Dad, it's a week at the tower. We'll be fine."

"You say that now, but just wait until you see the archery range installed."

"Archery range?"

"Archery range. It's attached to the gym he's designing for you all."

"Do you think Tony would let me move in, but be fine with me keeping the Bed-Stuy place?"

"You'll have to ask him."

***

"Steve says he doesn't know if he'll be able to make it."

"Hand me the futzing phone," Harry said.

***

"He'll be here at seven. He wants to know if he should pick up snacks or stuff from that shawarma place."

"You're good, Mini-Hawk. And yes,  _ please _ more shawarma. Tell him we'll order and pay if he picks it up."

***

That night, Harry, cuddled up to his dad, sat next to Steve on one of the couches. Natasha, Pepper, and Tony sat next to each other on the opposite couch, and Bruce and Lucky were curled up next to Katie-Kate on the beanbags. 

"So what's this television show about," Steve asked. 

"Dogs, who are cops. This season, Sergeant Whiskers is worried about the drug ring that's been operating all season. They've got reason to believe there's a leak in their department, but we don't know who yet."

"It's gotta be Detective Spot. I mean, seriously, he's shady as heck!"

"Detective Spot? Nah, Tony, it's gonna be Officer Pup Tart! She's been seeing the one British corgi, and I don't trust Pawlina! There's no way she's actually a princess."

Harry shook his head. "Steve, ignore them. It's 100% going to be Fyodor Dogstoevski. Tony and Dad just haven't been paying attention."

"Hush, it's starting."

***

The next morning, Harry and Steve were the first ones up. Tony had managed to convince Steve to join them at the Tower, much to everyone's surprise. Unfortunately, when Harry stepped out of the elevator, he couldn't help but gag at the smoke coming from the stove. Apparently, super soldier serum didn't carry cooking skills.

"Put that out, put that out, you'll set off the fire alarms," Harry said, hurrying over to the kitchen portion of the communal floor. 

When he looked into Steve's pan, he couldn't help but frown. "That… Doesn't look edible. Toss those out, because there's no way we can salvage those. I don't even think my dad would try and eat those."

Steve blushed, doing as told. "Sorry, cooking isn't really my strong suit."

"I'll do it," Harry said. "My ex-aunt used to make me do all the cooking, and Dad's idea of cooking is making cereal. What were you trying to make?"

"Um… Could you do eggs and bacon? But, super-sized portions, I guess?"

"Yeah, no worries."

"So, how do you have an ex-aunt?"

"Dad's not my bio-dad. He adopted me for my ninth birthday, but I've been living with him since before I turned six," Harry said, preparing the feast the super soldier would need. "I'm almost eleven, so I've been with Dad for almost over half my life, now. He rescued me from my aunt and uncle, who're in jail now. Well, my aunt is. My uncle is dead. Pretty sure Nat killed him. Anyways, you all should come to my birthday party next week."

"Nat killed him?"

"The only reason my aunt's still alive is because she doesn't know Petunia beat me over the head with a frying pan a few times. Talk about a bad birthday present," Harry said, seemingly unphased by the information he was sharing.

"She  _ what?!" _

"Frying pan to the head on my fourth birthday. And fifth. My cousin thought it was funny when she did it the first time, so he asked her to do it again when I turned five."

"Wha..."

"My cousin was allowed to do whatever he wanted. He was really spoiled. I think they abused him, too, because they never taught him how to be a person. I was the 'freak' who slept in the closet, and he was the supreme leader of the house. The worse he treated others, the better my uncle treated him."

"That's awful. What happened to him?"

"Well, when they got arrested, I asked that Dudley be adopted by a family who'd teach him how to be a good person. Last I heard, he was with a family in France." 

"And you like living with Clint?"

"Yeah, Dad's amazing. He's a great guy," Harry said. "We look after each other."

"That's good." 

"You know, it's legal for guys to date each other now, right?"

"What," Steve asked, surprised. "What makes you think..."

"You totally weren't coming to movie night last night, until I said Dad and I were going to be here. Also, you spent half of last night checking him out."

"Did not!"

"Really? Then what happened in the episode?"

"Um..."

"It's okay, he was definitely checking you out last night, too. Here's your food, by the way."

"Thanks. And really," Steve asked, sounding something like hopeful. 

Before Harry could respond, a loud pecking sound came from one of the windows. "Is that… an owl?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are! I decided to post this chapter a few hours early, because... Honestly, just because, haha
> 
> As usual, questions for you all :D
> 
> 1\. So, what did you think? Are you ready for Hogwarts?  
> 2\. What do you think is up with Loki?  
> 3\. The next chapter isn't about HJPB at all... But it'll introduce other players in the story. Who do you think will be important? What friendships are you expecting? What enemies is Harry going to make?
> 
> The next chapter will introduce an outline for the entire series! Or a prophecy. One of the two.
> 
> I'll be posting that chapter tomorrow (Thursday), but then I'll likely be taking a bit of time off to start working on Harry's first year. Which, of course, brings me to my next questions:
> 
> 4\. What house do you think Harry is going to end up in?  
> 5\. What houses are Harry's friends in?


	6. Destiny's Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Note, I changed the related fandoms because of this chapter ~

##  **_Ronald Weasley_ **

Ronald Weasley sat, moping, as he waited for the letter that never seemed to come. As the sixth child, he was so often forgotten. 

He knew that the owls normally went out between the first and third weeks of July, yet, three days into the  _ fourth _ week of July, he hadn't heard anything from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

His mother had been going on and on about how important his first year would be, and how many friends he'd make. After five older brothers, all of which had loved every minute of their time at the magic school, Ron couldn't help but be excited to finally receive his invitation.

After all, this was the year that he'd finally be able to make a name for himself. He knew that, if the gossip was true, that this would be  _ Harry Potter _ 's first year, too! Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be friends with someone as cool as  _ The Boy Who Lived.  _ The Potters were infamously rich, and just about every Potter ever had been in Gryffindor. The mum, too, she was a Gryffindor, just like he was sure to be. 

Ron could picture it now. He and Harry would meet on the train, because everyone knew that the best place to make friends was on the Hogwarts Express. Then, he and Harry would get sorted into Gryffindor together. They'd make tons more friends, and everyone he knew would hate Slytherin, because that's where all the dark wizards came from. 

Every Weasley had been a Gryffindor, so he was definitely going to Gryffindor. Plus, if the Boy Who Lived was the saviour of the wizarding world, then he'd obviously be the lightest wizard since Albus Dumbledore. So, he was definitely going to be a lion. 

"I wonder if he'll let me join him on any of his adventures," Ron wondered aloud. "I feel like he prolly would, right? We're gonna be housemates."

"Whatcha goin' on about now..."

"... Little Ronnikins? Thinking about..."

"Hogwarts now, are you?"

"Ugh, not now Fred. You too, George," Ron complained. He still couldn't tell which twin was which, much to his chagrin. Only he, Ginny, and Percy had trouble telling the boys apart, though, he thought it really wasn't fair that he be expected to know which was which. They were, after all, always together, almost always finishing each other's sentences, and always wearing the exact same thing.

"Did ye hear that, Gred? He says not now."

"Breaks me heart, doesn't it Forge?"

"Well, Ronnikins, what's got you in such a snit?"

"Waiting for your Hogwarts letter, is it?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I  _ still _ haven't heard back yet, and it's almost the first! What if I didn't get in? What am I going to do then? You all got your letters already!"

"Well, Ronnikins, we heard from Angelina, who heard from Cedric Diggory..."

"Who heard from Roger Davies..."

"Who heard from Cass Warrington, who heard from Marcus Flint, who heard from Penelope Clearwater..."

"Who heard from her aunt, who has tea with Professor Sprout..."

"That the first year letters were late this year, because a few of the letters were harder to find addresses for."

"From what we can tell," Fred said.

"That means you'll have some classmates from abroad," George said. "You might want to look at a map..."

"Or read a book, learn more about the world."

"Why would they go to Hogwarts if they're not from around here?"

"I dunno, but I imagine their families put them down for Hogwarts' registry."

"The Hogwarts registry?"

"Yeah, mate. It's the book that tells the Deputy Headmistress..."

"Who's coming, so she can make sure everything's ready for the students."

"Wouldn't that be Dumbledore's job?"

"No," Percy said, walking into the living room. "Headmaster Dumbledore is charged with the more diplomatic aspects of running the school. The majority of day-to-day elements are given to Professor McGonagall. Unless the problem is egregious in nature, Professor Dumbledore is normally not in need of the information."

"Woah… Hey, is that an owl?"

Percy smiled, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I imagine congratulations will be in order soon. You'd best start reading some of our old textbooks. I don't imagine the syllabus has changed much, we'll be able to give you our old books. They're full of notes, you'll find them quite useful."

"Yeah, yeah… I just wanna get in! I'm gonna be Harry Potter's best friend, just wait!"

***

##  **_Hermione Granger_ **

Hermione Jean Granger was quite confused by the sudden appearance of a large, tawny owl outside her window. She'd just come back from the park, where she'd spent all day playing with some of the neighbourhood kids.

At least, she'd been playing with them, until, without any explanation, the slide changed from a dull green to a light grey. What made her 'friends' run away, however, was that, as she slid down it, the slide lengthened. She ended up sliding ten metres farther than what was normal.

However, when she'd looked back, the slide was the same. Her playmates, however, had all gone running. 

So, when an  _ owl _ started tapping on the glass of her window, she couldn't help but be worried. Nothing ever good came from the strangeness that surrounded her, she was certain of it.

"Oh, alright," she huffed, letting the owl in.

In its talons, she found a large envelope. In beautiful, flowy script, it was addressed to  _ Hermione Jean Granger,  _ living in the third bedroom at her address. "Well, that's me," she said, speaking to no one in particular. 

She broke the wax seal, pulling out the parchment within. As she read, her jaw dropped. 

Was this…

Was this an explanation?

All the  _ oddness _ that surrounded her… There was a reason for it? 

She was…  _ a witch!  _ Every confusing moment, every day spent without friends to play on the playground… It had meaning! There  _ was _ a reason she was different! She could finally meet people who were like her! She'd never imagined there'd be a reason for why she was so odd. 

Sweet… Merlin? What did wizards think about religion, she wondered. As she looked over the textbooks and readings, she saw that there were extra pamphlets attached to the shopping list. 

_ Diagon Alley, How to Get There and Finding Your Way Around _

_ Hogwarts, a History - The Ultimate Guide to Hogwarts and her Secrets _

_ So, You're a Muggleborn? Talking about Magic to Family, the Statue of Secrecy, and More! _

As she leafed through the pieces of parchment, her heart fluttered. She'd never imagined there'd be a whole new world for her to learn about. With a vigour she'd never felt before, Hermione felt compelled to understand as much as she could about Magic and the people who used her.

She'd never felt more passionate about reading, or learning, than the moment she realised that there were probably students who grew up knowing  _ everything _ . She balked at the idea of just how far behind one could get in eleven years. She'd have to read  _ everything _ if she wanted to keep up with her classmates! 

Checking her letter once more, she found reference to a  _ Muggleborn Student Fund _ that would help pay for some of the extra reference materials she might need. This Potter figure sounded like a wonderful person, thinking so far ahead of what students might need. If she ever met them, then she'd be certain to thank them for the gift they'd given her. 

She saw that a professor from her new school would be visiting her house before the start of school, but she couldn't imagine having to wait that long to learn about the Wizarding World. No, she'd have to start  _ right away _ ! If she was lucky, maybe she'd be able to impress the teachers into thinking they'd definitely made the right choice. Now, she wondered, where the hell was Gringots and how was she supposed to get there? 

Ah, here it was.  _ Portkeys - How To, Why, and Your First Time!  _

"Better write mum and dad a note," she said, looking for a scrap of paper. Not, of course, that she actually expected her parents to notice her absence. But, still. 

Moving into the backyard, she smiled. 

"Now… Magic," she said, activating the parchment in her hands. As she began to spin and fly, she couldn't help but scream in excitement. 

She was coming  _ home! _

***

##  **_Draco Malfoy_ **

"Draco, your presence is requested in your father's study," Narcissa said, smiling down at her darling boy. How quickly they grew, she thought.

"Okay, Mother," Draco called back. He walked out of his room, and, after checking to make sure they were alone, gave her a large hug. 

"Know, Draco, that I am so _ , so _ proud of you, darling."

"Yes, Mother," Draco said, smiling. 

"Good. Now, hurry down to your father. He's waiting for you in his study. Knock once."

Nodding, Draco did his best to hurry. As he approached the large, oak doors to his father's study, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Never, in the eleven years he'd lived in the house, had he been invited into his father's study. 

It was the place for business, both past and present, as his mother liked to say. Draco wasn't certain, but he thought that meant that his father reserved his study for the businesses and causes that his family supported. One specific cause, especially.

Steeling himself, Draco knocked once. 

The door opened, and Lucius called out for his son to come in. "Take a seat, Draco. We have much to discuss."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, bowing his head. 

"Are you aware of why I have called you here?"

"No, Father."

"It appears that Hogwarts has finally sent your letters. As such, I believe it is time for you to begin tutoring in the subjects that Hogwarts offers with a proper wand. Moreover, we shall begin discussing, in detail, what you can expect from Hogwarts."

"Yes, Father."

"We shall leave shortly. However, before we go to Diagon, I feel it prudent to remind you just  _ what sort _ you can expect to be faced with during your time at school. Tell me, Draco, do you know why I hoped your mother would choose anywhere but Hogwarts?"

Draco shook his head.

"Mudbloods, Draco. Malfoys have always prided themselves on our purity, lest we be contaminated by their filth," began Lucius.

Silently, Draco couldn't help but wonder when his father would shut up about the bloody Mudbloods so they could get going to get his wand. However, that was a question he'd never voice. 

***

##  **_Lochlan Olympi_ **

"Hey, Lochie! Get your head out of the sand! Chiron wants you in the Big House. Sounded important," Luke called out.

"Walk with me?"

"Always," Luke said, smiling. "You know, I can't thank you enough for all your help with the swordsmanship class last week. Those newbies take so much time, it was really helpful to have another pair of hands around."

"Anytime, Luke."

They shared another smile, as was common between the two of them. Lochie always cherished the time they spent around each other. Luke was like the older brother he'd never had, in a lot of ways. However, if he was being completely honest, Lochie was rather certain he was glad Luke  _ wasn't _ his brother. 

After all, he wasn't quite sure, but he was fairly certain that Luke was  _ attractive _ .

They walked in companionable silence, occasionally sharing grins. At one point, they walked past another Full-Year camper, Annabeth, from Athena. Although Lochie was quick to give her a friendly wave, he only received an angry glare.

She was often giving him glares. He hadn't figured out  _ what  _ it was that he'd done, but… He really couldn't care.

Before he knew it, they were at the Big House. "Want me to come in with you," Luke asked.

Before he could respond, however, a deep voice called out. "It'd be best if you didn't Luke. Lochlan, please come inside."

Shrugging, Lochie gave Luke a smile before following after the centaur. 

"What's up, Chiron," he asked, after the door closed behind them. 

"You have mail."

"Special mail, I take it?"

"If my hunch is right, Lochlan… We may need to visit the Oracle."

"Special mail."

"Yes," the centaur said, nodding his head. "It's attached to the owl. However, she'll only let you take it from her, I believe. Miss Chase was most put out when she realised she wouldn't be able to get the mail for me. "

"Right. That makes sense. Well, let's see what this is all about. Hey there," he said, giving the owl a caress. "Whatcha got for me?"

The owl quickly released the parchment, giving a loud,  _ "Hoo". _ As soon as the letter was freed from its leg, it flew out the window it came. 

"Who knows I sleep in the third bunk from the right of the door, under Luke's?"

"I am afraid you'll have to open it to find out."

Rolling his eyes, Lochlan did as instructed. When he saw what was inside, his jaw dropped.  _ "Di immortales _ , Chiron. This says I've been accepted to a  _ magic _ school? I've never been to a  _ normal _ school before!"

"Yes, well… Come, let us go upstairs. I imagine we'd best see if the Oracle has anything to say to you."

"Great," Lochie mumbled, fingering the beads on his necklace. Ten different beads, each one representing the years he'd spent at camp. 

The years he'd spent without parents. 

Climbing the stairs to the storage attic, illustrious home of the Oracle, he couldn't help but be creeped out. Chiron had stopped at the stairs, only motioning for him to climb.

In his time at camp, he'd never once been allowed to go up here. Now that he'd had the chance, he couldn't begin to understand why he'd ever  _ wanted _ to see what they kept up here.

"Pretty dank up here, isn't it," a voice asked, from behind him. 

Lochie whipped around, only to see a tall, stunningly handsome, blonde man with friendly features. Hand moving to his sword, he asked, "Who the hell are you?"

"Hey, hey," the stranger said, hands in front of him. "No need to slay me. I'm Apollo."

"Apollo?"

"Yeah. Kiddo, you're going to be getting involved in some big shit. Got sent here by the Big Guy. Asked me to deliver the prophecy myself. His words were, and I quote, 'don't make him look at the creepy zombie Oracle.'"

"Zombie Oracle?"

"Look around if you're curious, but I wouldn't. I've seen some nasty shit, kid. That? Takes the cake."

"Noted. So, I'm guessing you've got a prophecy for me, then?"

"Unfortunately for you, I do. Let's get this over with."

"Alright then."

The handsome man opened his mouth, only for glowing, white smoke to pour out of it. When sound finally came from his mouth, it wasn't the voice from earlier. 

"Divinely Blessed the chosen ones go,

Far beyond the dangers of the Willow;

Power of Chaos and Power of Order,

Safe behind no border;

The truth and love are naught but lies,

Hidden behind hatred's great disguise;

Pain is the only result of trust,

And companionship comes from what needs, must;

Evil this century has seen before,

And none shall be safe from this Great War; 

The _ Titan _ shall rise, 

His malevolence shall all terrorise;

Four heroes lead, to save us all,

Death and Magic together shall bear the pall;

The rules adjourned and the court of difference,

Should the heroes succeed in their deliverance."

"Well, that was longer than I expected," Lochlan said. 

Apollo coughed. "Yeah, they're normally a bit shorter. Looks like you're extra important, Olympi. Shit, the Great Prophecy wasn't even that long. Guess that makes this one the Great Prophecy, 2.0. Come on, squirt, you've got some people looking to meet you. I'd tell you whom, but they'd smite me. Meet me in the Northern Woods, by Zeus's Fist. No one's out there right now, and you shouldn't bring anyone with you."

"You know, you're nothing like your kids say."

"What?"

"Oh, everyone who's met you says you're a bit of a hippie weirdo who likes to sing. Clearly, someone's wrong."

"Yeah, well, we all have our parts to play, don't we," Apollo said, giving the boy a smirk. "Turn around, kiddo. See you soon."

Lochlan did as instructed, well aware of the dangers of looking at the immortals' true forms. "Well, better get going," he said to himself. 

As he climbed down from the attic, the words of the prophecy rang through his head. None of it sounded particularly pleasant. In fact, it sounded quite awful. However, a prophecy was a prophecy. 

And, if Apollo was to be believed, this was more than just a normal prophecy. 

Fuck.

"How did it go," Chiron asked. 

Aware of how slow he was moving, Lochie lied, "I… I'm going to need some time alone, I think. I'll tell you about it later, if that's okay?"

"Oh… Sure. I guess that's alright. Please, though, do find me before curfew."

"Of course."

Pushing his way out the door, he saw that Luke was the next one waiting for him. 

His best friend's face fell the minute he saw Lochie's face. "What's wrong?"

"Prophecy. Quest. Big one… Luke, I need to be alone for a bit, I think. I'll… I'll come find you later, okay? Tell you all about it."

"Oh," Luke said. "You sure?"

"Yeah… I get the feeling I'm about to get some news, and I don't know what form it's going to take. If it's something bad, I want you safe," Lochie said. That was as close to the truth as he could muster, really. "Promise, I'll tell you more, later."

"I'll hold you to it, Olympi."

"I know you will, Castellan," Lochlan said, smiling once more. He couldn't help it. Luke simply brought out his biggest grins. "See you soon."

He jogged off, away from the rest of camp. Before long, he found himself staring at Zeus's Fist. There was a foreboding energy about the place, which, unsurprisingly, made it one of the least-frequented parts of camp. 

Most half-bloods weren't exactly fond of the danger they found themselves in, after all.

As he turned the corner to face the woods, his jaw dropped. " _ Di immortales. _ "

"Yep, that sounds about right," Apollo said, his grin large enough to shame the Cheshire cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end of my first arc! 
> 
> Sad to say I'll be disappearing for a bit while I write - However, you can expect the first chapter to go up on March 1st! I'm trying to stockpile a few chapters in case life gets to be A Lot and I can't write for whatever reason. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Oh, and what do you think about that prophecy? It's a Big Deal ;) 
> 
> (Also, Lochlan is my OC. He's a chaotic little shit, and I can't wait for you all to meet him more!)

**Author's Note:**

> This story will update on Thursdays!  
> 


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